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The 

Master of Bonne Terre 



t 




• * » 







l?3 




Copyright, 1917, by 
EGBERT J. SHORES, Publisher 
New York 


NEW AND IMPOBTANT BOOKS. 

Dollars and Cents, 

By Albert Pay son Terhune . 

Bucking the Tiger, 

By Achmed Abdullah 

The Ancient Quest, ' 

By Beginald Wright Kauffman 

Our United States Army, 

By Helen S. Wright 

The Destiny of the United States, 

By Snell Smith 

The Drums and Other Poems, 

By Walter Bomeyn Benjamin 

Heart Messages from the Trenches, 

By Nellie Bosilla Taylor 


THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 




BY 

WILLIAM ANTONY KENNEDY, 

u 


AUTHOR OF 

Britons See It/^ ^‘The 
Making of Peter Dunn, ’ ’ etc. 



NEW YORK 

ROBERT J. SHORES, Publisher 
1917 



DEDICATION 


THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED TO MY 
WIFE, WHOSE SERVICES AND SOUND 
ADVICE, BASED ON HER KEEN APPRE- 
CIATION OP LITERATURE, HAVE 
MADE IT POSSIBLE FOR ME TO WRITE 
THIS STORY. 


/ 

•JUN -5 1917 

©GIA462867 


TABLE OP CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I A Funeral op Fire . . . 1 

II Two Travelers . . . .10 

III The New Master op Bonne Terre 35 

IV Re-instatement . . . .46 

Y The Dance at Dade^s Inn . . 77 

VI The Loneliness op the Hills . 94 

VII An Opper 108 

VIII New Lipe 119 

IX His Country's Call . . . 127 

X Theresa 138 

XI The Mediators .... 151 
XII The Hand op Blight . . .178 

XIII The Fall op Richmond . . . 186 

XIV Peace 202 

XV The Home-Coming .... 215 

XVI FRANgois^s Dippiculties . . 226 

XVII Complications .... 237 

XVIII The Accident 247 

XIX A Discovery 254 


CHAPTER 



PAGE 

XX 

A Sacrifice 

• 

. 273 

XXI 

A Voice in the Woods . 


. 292 

XXII 

Troubled Waters . 


. 320 

XXIII 

An Appeal 


. 334 

XXIV 

Rejoicing 


. 357 

xxv 

A Confession . 


. 367 

XXVI 

A Barrier 


. 383 

XXVII 

The Revelation 


. 393 

XXVIII 

A New Man 


. 423 

XXIX 

Doubts . . . 


. 434 

XXX 

The Crisis 


. 437 

XXXI 

Suspense 


. 449 

XXXII 

Visitors .... 


. 458 

XXXIII 

Reconnoiterings 


. 469 

XXXIV 

The New Lovers 


. 478 

XXXV 

The Silent Watch 


. 486 

XXXVI 

A New Outlook 


. 502 

XXXVII 

Loyalty .... 


. 516 

XXXVIII 

The Clearing of the Way 


. 530 

XXXIX 

Intervention . 


. 545 

XL 

The Turning in the Lane 


. 567 




I V 



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The Master of Bonne Terre 





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THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

CHAPTER I. 

A FUNERAL OF FIRE. 

Leaping flames lit up a strange funeral scene 
in the foot-hills of the Ozark Mountains. An 
assembled crowd of hunters and backwoodsmen 
stood in a wide circle about the roaring bonfire. 

Two days before, an old couple, Paul Frangois 
and Helen, his wife, had died almost at the same 
time. As they were passing out of the world, they 
requested that their age-shriveled bodies should 
be buried in one grave beneath the floor of the 
log cabin in which they had lived for over a 
quarter of a century, and that then the dwelling 
with all its contents be immediately burned to the 
ground. Friends were now doing as they had been 
comnianded. 

As the sun sank behind the smoke-crested hills, 
the simple ceremony was being conducted with 
great respect. By the time the last shovelful of 
earth was lovingly beaten into shape on the 
1 


2 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


mound, shadows of night were already enshroud- 
ing the dense forest that compassed the lonely 
spot. When the torch had been applied, and the 
red blazes were well under way, weird figures 
danced fantastically in the sylvan gloom. No 
rustle of leaves nor sigh of the wind muffled the 
sharp popping and crackling of the rich pine 
boards. Not a word was spoken. Every man, 
woman, and child gazed on in silence, struggling 
with thoughts that made them serious and sad. 
Occasionally an overwrought woman would look 
into the darkness of the woods and shudder. Even 
a hardy hunter feigned a cough now and then 
to ease the tension of his feelings. Still the fierce 
destroyer raged on, unmindful of the mourners, 
and caring naught whether the pile were a hut or a 
palace of kings. 

Old Paul and his wife had been friends in need 
to the backwoodsmen in all the country round 
about. From far and near these rugged pioneers 
had come, with their families, to pay their respects 
to the dead of Bonne Terre. More than three 
hundred of them, the men clad in hunting jackets, 
and carrying rifles, and the women gowned in lin- 
sey-woolsey, watched the fire wipe out all earthly 
remembrances of those who had loved them and 
aided them in their battles for existence in that 


A FUNERAL OF FIRE 


3 


new country. As the dry, rosined timbers fed the 
hungry flames, the onlookers’ crude imaginations 
turned to Paul and Helen. With the roof caved 
in and the doors and windows burst outward, the 
interior could be plainly seen. In everyone’s mind 
there reappeared the old couple sitting before the 
broad fireplace. As the ancient weight clock 
tumbled forward to mingle its ashes with the rest, 
they could again see Helen’s wrinkled hand wind- 
ing it up ; when the cookstove tottered and fell on 
its side, they could see Helen standing by it baking 
johnny cakes; the old rifle, in dropping to the floor 
and writhing and twisting in the heat, reminded 
them of Paul’s slipping softly through the primi- 
tive forests in search of game ; and when the only 
picture on the walls, an enlarged photograph of 
Jean Frangois, the one child of the household, 
crimped slowly and fell face downward, they saw 
the curly headed youngster playing under the oaks 
nearby, and remembered his mother’s saying when 
he ran away at the age of fifteen, ^^Jean ’ll come 
back some day and find us gone ; but he is a good 
boy, and will yet make a man.” And so on, until 
the stone chimney and the wide stone hearth were 
all that remained by the smoking mound of earth. 

In the meantime, the blackness of a starless win- 
ter’s night grew denser with the gathering of snow 


4 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


clouds. The mourners still squatted upon logs 
and blocks of wood with their eyes fixed on the 
glowing embers and fire-crinkled ornaments and 
utensils. Their features were silhouetted in the 
waning fire light, and it seemed that they were 
afraid to speak or move, when Silas Dade, the 
backwoodsmen^s leader, stepped forth and said : — 

^Thar haint none of you^ns what knowed the 
deceased as I knowed ^em, and bein’ as I was with 
’em when they died, I can tell you how it was. 

“Back thar somewhere ’bout forty years ago, I 
come here and entered my place down the hollow. 
One day soon after, Paul come with his wife, then 
a slight gal of eighteen, or thar ’bouts. Says he, 
^Can I stop on dees half section ?’ — he was 
French, you know, and always did talk funny. I 
said Ves,’ an’ after a little talk and prancing about, 
he settled on this here place, an’ ’lowed he’d stay. 
I asked them where they’ns come from, but says 
he, T don’t see how it concerns you’ns.’ So I 
dropped the question. None of you’ns ever 
knowed where they come from, an’ I don’t know 
neither. 

“Yesterday I figured out some things he told me, 
or started to tell, and put them with what he told 
me ’bout ten years ago, when death snatched him 
hence, and when I’ve referred to Jean a bit, I’U 


A FUNERAL OF FIRE 


5 


tell you what of it as is prudent, so you^ll bear me 
out that I was right ten years ago when I took his 
part agin the whole passel of you^ns. 

^^Now, ’bout Jean. It seemed for the longest 
time that Paul an’ Helen warn’t goin’ to have 
no children; but, howamsoiver, ’bout twenty-five 
year ago, Helen found a whoppin’ boy, an’ they’ns 
called him Jean. Old Paul was that proud of 
him, that he come dasted nigh takin’ me into his 
confidence then an’ a-tellin’ me his whole gol- 
darned secret — for long afore that him an’ me 
was pals, and thicker’n dog fleas. By ginger, he 
did say, says ’e, ^I comes of a rattlin’ good family. 
Si, and it’s been my ambition to live far in the 
backwoods, or some distant part, so I could raise 
up a boy not to love money — ’ Then he be- 
thought hisseK, hooked up a stitch, and shut up 
like a domn’d terrapin. 

“As to Jean, howamsoiver, much of which you 
knows. Jean grew up a husky, wide-awake, wild, 
devil-don’t-care kind o’ fellow. Seems as though 
his dad had rather soured on the world and forgot 
that once he was young, an’ he and Jean didn’t 
hitch nor gee and haw fittin’ for nuthing. Then 
come that woman who called herself Theresa, and 
the all-but-would’ve-been scandal, an’ somehow 
or ’nuther Jean and his dad mixed over it — Jean 


6 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


was fifteen then, an^ a chunk of a kid, and at the 
other end of the muddle, Jean cleared out on his 
own, an^ he haint showed up since. He haint sent 
back no word neither. This has finished the old 
folks, ’cause it’s been ten year now. 

‘Taul and Helen died together, as you’ns knows. 
Paul was aged before his time. Helen was, too, 
but she always did finicky about, so that when she 
saw Paul bound to die, she kind o’ give up an’ 
went, too. 

^Taul figured this out, an’ says ’e, 'Whin I 
draws my last, so will Helen.’ Then he give me 
the instructions of this here burying, which Helen 
heard, though not pretendin’ like, and it was too 
much for her, for the little flicker of her candle 
trembled a bit, then it petered out quick and sud- 
den like. Paul seen it with his keen eyes, an’ 
said, says ’e, in the words of some soldier whose 
name he called, — 

^The Lord he praised, I die happy' 

Then friends. Death took old Paul by the hand 
immediately, and began to lead him over. Paul 
never put up no fight neither, — only smiled. 

" ’Pears he must’ve thought of Jean, for he 
looked back from the edge of the dark river, and 
beckoned for me to come to his couch, I, the 


A FUNERAL OF FIRE 


7 


only witness to that solemn moment, went and 
took his hand, an^ he tried to leave a message for 
Jean an^ you people he always loved/ Silas paused 
a moment, fumbled in his pocket, then continued 
rather brokenly, ^^Says 'e, ^Si, if Jean comes 
back, — ^ then gasped awful; hf Jean comes back, 
tell him to hold on to these here six hundred acres, 
an' not sell. You pay the taxes till he comes. 
Tell him to remember the squattin' oak, as I told 
him. 

Then to the people at my funeral say I was a 
rich man's son, high born, an' that I lived here to 
raise up a son — a real man, to avenge a wrong 
done me. I once protected a friend, an' he turned 
agin me. His name — his name was — ' Paul 
strangled just here, an' I never got the name. 
Then, says he after a while, T'm leaving this 
world — give the people this word — ' and he 
choked and come nigh going out before he could 
add, ^to clear up — to clear up — the — ' 

suppose he meant the charge we accused him 
of once, but his mind wandered, an' he clean for- 
got. Next he said — howamsoiver, with an effort, 
an awful effort, say 'e, Taul Frangois — Paul Fr — 
haint my name. Frangois was my mother’s name. 
It's Paul Gr — Gr — ' 

'That was all I heard — just the startin' of a 


8 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


name. He never did finish it. He just stopped 
breathin’.'' 

Dade looked about from face to face, as though 
seeking encouragement that he might venture a 
guess to fill out Paul's secret and explain the mys- 
tery that clung about the life of the old French- 
man, thereby making good his half promise earlier 
in the discourses; but he thought better of it, and 
closed his remarks by saying : — 

“You'll pardon me for not doin' as I said I 
would. If I tell you Paul warn't guilty ten year 
ago, you'll have to believe me as you did then, 
without the proof being p'inted out. I don't know 
Paul's real name, leastwise I'd tell you, but I can't 
see as how it makes any difference. He was a 
man, a real'n, too, an' I'm certain of one thing : he 
warn't guilty of nuthin' bad. 

“They'ns is both dead now, an' Si Dade haint 
old woman enough to pry after things just to feed 
the curiosity of folks. It may all come out after 
while, for there's nuthin' hid what shan't be un- 
covered some day. Howamsoiver, I'm a friend 
of you'ns, a friend of the dead, an' a friend of 
Jean — if he ever comes back. So I'm goin' to shut 
up, an', in closin', I ask all of you'ns to keep silent 
to strangers about Paul an' Helen." 


A FUNERAL OF FIRE 


9 


They promised after the manner of backwoods- 
men ; that is, by raising the right hand. Soon af- 
ter they dispersed for home. 


CHAPTER II. 


TWO TRAVELERS. 

In groups of twos and threes, the hunters and 
backwoodsmen, occupied with their own thoughts, 
scattered through the forest, or plodded along nar- 
row snow-carpeted paths in the valleys and 
gulches. The only sound that broke the hush of 
nature at sleep, was the crunching of the snow 
under foot. The moon struggling to smile down 
on the ice-bound world, in its occasional peeps 
through the clouds, revealed rather the coming of 
another snow-fall, for heavy, murky banks hung 
low, and threatened in the west. 

When one of the belated mourners came to the 
crossroads, two miles lower down the valley from 
Paul Frangois^s home, he was startled by the jingle 
of sleigh bells. He stepped to one side and await- 
ed the approach of the travelers. 

‘‘Ah ! blast it, if there isn’t a human being at 
last,” said a voice from the sleigh. 

Silas Dade seeing he was observed, stood stiU 
without speaking. 


10 


TWO TRAVELERS 


11 


^‘Hello, there !” called out the larger of the two 
men in the sleigh, ^^can you, by any chance, tell us 
where we are at ?” 

'Well,” replied Dade, leisurely surveying with 
his sharp eyes which defied the darkness, first the 
horses, then the outfit and the travelers, "this here 
is the County of St. Frangois, State of Missouri, 
nigh to the farm of old Paul Frangois, what he his- 
self named Bonne Terre, ’cause, I reckon, it has a 
few lead diggings on it — can I obleege you’ns 
further ?” 

"That’s precise enough,” remarked the other 
and younger man in the sleigh. 

"And where be you goin’, strangers, this late 
hour ?” 

"To a superb region of perpetual and unmolest- 
ed bliss, according to my young companion here,” 
replied the first speaker, the big man. 

"Well,” said Dade, as measuredly as before, 
"whatamsoiver and whereamsoiver that place may 
be, you’ns haint arrived there yit. You’re in the 
wrong county, fellers.” 

"By hooky !” exclaimed the big man, "we must 
be there, and no mistake; — but where the devil 
are we ? — probably at the wrong entrance of that 
paradise this young man’s been describing to me.” 

"Didn’t I tell yer where you’ve got — coimty, 


12 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


state, and so on,^^ continued Dade, on the verge of 
exasperation. ^What else could I tell you, I ask 
myself ?” 

^^Right, right, my friend hastened to answer 
the big man, grinning the while; ‘Ve’re not ex- 
pecting you to tell us more than that, nor where 
weVe going, but — and he stopped short, stroking 
his beard. His companion laughed softly, then 
whistled. 

Silas looked perplexed. 

‘We’re looking for — , for — , that is, can you tell 
us the way to Silas Dade’s ?” 

“Dade’s me name, sir.” 

The big man leaned forward to have a better 
view of Silas, then turned to his companion. “Well, 
Porter,” said he, “this is what I call luck.” Then 
turning again to Silas, he regarded him critically, 
but soon added with jocular enthusiasm, — “Hur- 
rah ! but we’re glad to know you, Dade. Why, 
man, we’ve been trailing you for hours, and here 
you stalk out on the roadside and gaze at us. Be- 
lieve me, Dade, I’m that glad to see you, I’d divide 
my fortune with you rather than leave you to- 
night. My name is Donald Douglas.” 

“Donald Douglas — Douglas !” repeated Silas. 

“You speak my name like you know me. Hands 


TWO TRAVELERS 13 

up, I swear Fve never been in these— what do you 
say r 

''Diggings,'' suggested Dade. 

"That's it — diggings; — I've never been in these 
diggings before, and unless you've been out of 
them, you've never seen me." 

Dade, however, repeated the name mentally 
several times without reasoning out why he did so. 
Then he asked : 

"How'd you git here?" 

"We came down from De Soto to French Vil- 
lage, where I've been for a week at Uncle Frank 
AuBuchon's. I wanted to come out here to hunt 
for a couple of weeks. This young man is Abner 
Porter — I brought him along with me. He's use- 
ful to keep me in good spirits. Uncle Frank sent 
us over to you." 

"Any fellers Uncle Frank AuBuchon sends me is 
welcomed. Both of you’ns can count on Si Dade." 

"We'll get on — I can see that," added big Don- 
ald Douglas confidently. 

"Yes," conceded Silas, "but how did you get 
here ?" 

"Blast if I know. Ask this miracle worker, this 
young swain, who drives down faces of bluffs, and 
laughs, talks, and swears at the same time." 

"This is a rather cold place to go into the details 


14 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


of our adventures/^ said Porter, ^^but this is how 
it was : — Uncle Frank gave us some outlandish 
directions about a way through a settlement he 
called String Town, but we never got on to the 
^string\ and found out hours later that we were 
lost, in a settlement they call Shake Rag. One of 
the fellows there, a big, gruff man named Mostil- 
ler, put us right, but we had a hell of a time getting 
off Jacob’s Creek. After we had crossed it some 
dozen times, we became frantic and struck out 
boldly in an opposite direction, to escape slipping 
and geehawing on its ice. Blame if in an hour’s 
time we hadn’t got back to it, and it was twice as 
large.” 

''That was Terre Blue,” put in Dade. 

"Well, 'blue’ it may be,” retorted Porter, "for 
both of us swore at it until we were blue. It 
seemed to be there just on purpose for us to cross 
and recross. By-damn, if we didn’t come to the 
'cussed’ thing again with a half hour’s time, and it 
was twice as large as it was thirty minutes before.” 

"That was Big River — I guess you crossed it at 
Pigg’s Ford,” suggested Dade. "You hadn’t ought- 
er blame pore old Jake — you left his crick over by 
Mann’s Mill, at Hazel Run. Didn’t you see the 
old feller what stutters an’ hawhaws after every- 
thin’ he says ?” 


TWO TRAVELERS 


15 


''Yes,” replied Porter, ''and he said his name 
was, or we rather guessed it was Peter Mann.” 

"Well, you’ns have come mighty nigh right. 
Howamsoiver, you’re here, an’ that’s somethin’, 
weather like this. Just drive after me, an’ we’ll 
go down to the place where I live, what a feller 
from Eredericktown calls Dade’s Inn, ’cause I 
takes in strangers, besides keepin’ the post office 
an’ a store, I reckon.” 

Dade led off at a brisk pace, and the tired horses 
followed close. The men in the sleigh spoke only 
twice in going the short distance, and that was to 
swear at being raked in the face by overhanging 
branches of the scrubby oak trees. 

At last on emerging from a winding bit of the 
road, darkened by clumps of squatting cedars, they 
came up sharply in front of Dade’s Inn, a building 
made of logs, — a large flat meandering building, 
with two huge stone chimneys rising from both 
ends of the main structure. Seven or eight yellow 
and black and white spotted hounds came yelping 
to the woodpile. But above the din of Towser and 
Buck and Lead and the rest, there came from the 
house strains of "Fisher’s Hornpipe,” being jigged 
out on a cracked fiddle. 

An old woman stuck her head out the kitchen 
door and called : "Is that you. Pap ?” 


16 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


^Tep, an’ I’ve got two hungry fellers with me. 
Count ’em in the skillet.” 

^^Supper’s ready now — we’uns haint ate yet. 
Come in — Oh ! Jeems ! Jeems ! — Tom ! — go an’ 
unhook the nags.” 

These instructions were screamed out by Mrs. 
Dade as she turned back into the kitchen. 

James and Tom and Sam and Nick and Bud, — 
all big swarthy, grown up sons of Silas Dade, — 
came out to look shyly at the new-comers and feed 
the horses. They could have picked up the poor, 
tired animals, and carried them off to the barn, for 
they were splendid specimens of fully developed 
young manhood, unhampered by the city’s de- 
pressing civilization. Douglas paused to look at 
them as they crossed the horse lot with the team. 

The travelers long remembered the meal at 
Dade’s Inn that night. Dade sat at the head of 
the table, — Mrs. Dade at the other end. The 
five grown sons sat along one side; Douglas and 
Porter, Miranda, Jennie, Sallie, and Sallie’s Teller’, 
occupied the opposite one. A fourth daughter, 
Betty, waited on the table. Sallie’s ^Teller” — he’d 
been courting her three years — was the butt for all 
the jokes. The pack of hounds, seven in number, 
reinforced by two awkward pups, sat on their 
haunches at respectful distances back of the diners’ 


TWO TRAVELERS 


17 


chairs, with mouths dripping, waiting patiently for 
chance scraps of food. 

It was a substantial supper, generously planned, 
and calculated to satisfy the hunger of men who 
had come far across rough country. Two huge 
roasts of venison, great dishes stalked high with 
corn dodgers, several bowls of potatoes, a tureen 
of lye hominy, plates of butter, large pitchers of 
butter-milk, piles of fried apple pies, and a two- 
gallon pot of black coffee, helped to appease the 
appetites of Douglas and his companion. How- 
ever, their inner man, although full-fledged, 
seemed puny and inefficient when measured fairly 
with that of the family group; and Dade and his 
sons had had what they called just a “middlin^ ” 
day. Each had mauled two hundred rails in the 
clearing before attending ‘^the funerar\ Two 
helpings each of venison and three cups of coffee, 
with liberal portions of everything else, made them 
fairly comfortable. Douglas and Porter were so 
astounded by the eating prowess of the men that 
they forgot to watch the old woman and her 
daughters. Suddenly a break came, though, in 
the hearty laugh provoked by Mrs. Dade^s excla- 
mation : 

^Why, Pap, you an’ the boys haint leavin’ 
nuthin’ for the hounds I” 


18 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


After the meal, they all went into the ‘^sittin’ 
room — a big, square, low-ceiling affair, with ample 
space for dancing. At one side was a roaring fire 
of four-foot logs in a stone fireplace, seemingly 
wide enough to shelter an ordinary wagon. 

A hit-and-miss rag carpet, that must have taken 
years to piece, covered the fioor. The hewn log 
walls were white-washed, and the ceiling showed 
the bare joists with the upstairs floor of wide 
planks, also heavily coated with the backwoods- 
men’s domestic paint — a pearly-white prepara- 
tion of lime, sour milk, and glue. A few pieces of 
heavy walnut furniture, — a bed, a bureau, and a 
chest, — occupied appropriate places. The ten or 
twelve chairs were homemade, with hickory bot- 
toms. On the walls two chromo pictures, and a 
tall Seth Thomas weight clock on the broad 
mantel, completed the fittings of the assembly 
room of Dade’s Inn. 

That evening, the men folks brought out their 
cob pipes, and offered ‘‘terbacky” to the ^‘com- 
pany.” Douglas and Porter preferred their own 
brands, but drew up their chairs before the fire 
and joined in the conversation, which turned easily 
from the weather and ^‘rail splittin’ ” to deer 
hunting. 

Silas Dade was one of the best hunters in the 


TWO TRAVELERS 


19 


Ozarks. He launched forth into his subject with 
master strokes, and soon had his guests transfixed 
in mute admiration as they followed him in their 
imaginations in deer-stalking from Ste. Genevieve 
to the mouth of the Merrimac. They gloried in 
his spunk when he recounted how he had carried 
the hind quarters of a buck from Pilot Knob, fif- 
teen miles away, to the Inn. They admired his 
sportsman^s compunction about shooting a doe 
with a fawn, and the next minute lived over again 
with him a hand-to-hand combat with a five- 
pointed monarch of the forests. 

The sons knew these stories by heart, so one by 
one, they slipped off to bed. Young Porter also 
succumbed to weariness and retired. Mam and 
her daughters were waiting for a chance to tell Pap 
that if he wanted to ^^perlaver^^ later than eleven, 
he had better take Mr. Douglas through the store 
— one wing of the house — to his ^^den^^, when the 
seven hounds and the two pups gave mouth, in 
unison, as if they had discovered a fresh scent of 
reynard. 

“Who’s that now ?” cried the women folks as 
they rushed to the door. 

On looking out, a gust of wind blew into the 
room a shower of snowflakes. In answer to Mam’s 


20 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


^'Who's there a deep bass voice asked, ^Ts this 
Dade's Inn ?" 

^^Yep," replied three of the girls in one voice. 

Dade now advanced to the door and said : 

^‘Come in — never mind the hounds. They 
haint of the bitin' kind." 

Immediately, a large, broad-chested, black- 
bearded man strode into the room. He greeted 
the surprised group with a pleasant “Good evening 
— sorry to intrude upon you." 

“Oh, that's all right," responded Dade while his 
keen, knowing eyes searched critically the man's 
face. After an awkward pause during which the 
new-comer stood still, Silas continued, “Git over 
to the hearth an' stomp oh the snow balls from 
your heels." 

The stranger obeyed at once. Crossing to the 
fireplace he brushed off the clinging snow from his 
Herculean shoulders and cleared his boot heels on 
the andirons. Then he removed his tall fur cap, 
revealing a high, prominent forehead about which 
clustered a mass of thick, curly black hair. He 
was handsome, with a manner dignified and com- 
pelling, and the easy fiow of appropriate remarks 
that accompanied his actions, quickly dispersed 
any latent reserve on the part of his audience. He 
was liked by aU. 


TWO TRAVELERS 


21 


^^Come far ?” asked Dade. 

Walked from St. Mary’s since yesterday — 
stopped overnight at William Carter’s, in Farm- 
ington,” the stranger replied. 

^^Good sixty mile,” observed Dade. 

Douglas was studying the fine face of the young 
man whose perfect ease of manner seemed to belie 
the suggestion that he might be a backwoodsman. 
He was undoubtedly young — surely under twenty- 
eight. 

In the meantime, Jenny and Miranda had 
slipped away to the kitchen to get another supper 
ready. Mam who had followed her daughters, re- 
turned shortly and announced that the meal was 
seiwed. The new guest followed her to the dining 
room. 

When he returned to the sitting room, shyly 
escorted by the girls led by Mrs. Dade, his host 
called abruptly to his wife and daughters to go to 
bed, as he, Mr. Douglas, and the traveler were 
going to the den. 

The women looked at the master a second time 
— disappointment lurking in their eyes at being 
dismissed so summarily — but obeyed without 
comment. 

Dade took a lamp, and told the men to follow — 


22 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


'Well have a chat an' a 'drap' without disturbing 
the household," said he. 

Leading the way through two wide halls to the 
room used as the store and post office, then 
through the latter into a somewhat smaller room, 
quite cozy, lighted up by a bright log fire, Silas 
paused on the threshold. 

Douglas who was a few steps behind wheeled 
about to take another look at the store room be- 
fore leaving it. That gave old Dade just the 
chance he was looking for. Quickly he turned to 
his companion and whispered : 

'T know you, Jean Frangois. Any reason to 
hide your name ?" 

"None at all. Si." 

Douglas came up at once, and Silas spoke as 
they entered the den. 

"Mr. Douglas, this here's Jean Frangois. He 
thought he'd have one on old Dade, but I've 
known him ever since he was knee high to a duck, 
so he couldn't fool me. He's been off on a jaunt, 
but he's got the right sort of blood in him an' 
knows what's what. Why, he was raised right 
here in these woods, an' I kin tell you that he kin 
draw as neat a bead as Dan Boone hisself. I allow 
he'll be after huntin' with you an' me." 


TWO TRAVELERS 


23 


^Tleased to meet you, Mr. Frangois,” and Doug- 
las warmly shook the young giant's hand. 

Frangois acknowledged the introduction by 
bowing affably. 

''We'uns have had a go 'round with this 'Mis- 
terin' ' business ; 'spose we draps it an' say Si and 
Douglas and Frangois — " pointing to the latter, 
"he's big 'nough an' whoppin' 'nough to be called 
Frangois 'stid of Jean." 

"Agreed," said Douglas with a hearty laugh, 
"Now, Si, bring that 'drap' you spoke of a while 
ago." 

Silas chuckled, and going to an oak chest 
brought out a demijohn. 

Douglas gave the old backwoodsman a friendly 
tap on the shoulder. "You're all right," he cried 
with an approving nod. 

Drawing up a small table to the front of the 
fire, the three men seated themselves in eager 
anticipation of an old-time social hour. Now and 
then, it was the habit of Dade to slip away into 
this room, accompanied by a hunter or a traveler, 
his mind made up to take a drink or two beyond 
the equilibrium line; not through any weakening 
of his will power, but with the self-acknowledged 
idea of having a good time. No one dared inter- 
fere with him on these occ^ions, and ^though 


24 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


good Mrs. Dade suspected what was going on, she 
never voiced her suspicions. It must be admitted, 
though, that Silas never strayed so far from the 
path of soberness as to cause any serious uneas- 
iness to his helpmate. On this special night in- 
tuition had told Dade that Douglas was not aloof 
to a fling; and as for Frangois — well, he could 
suit himself. 

^Tf anyone needs a bracer, it sure is that lad,” 
thought Silas. ^When he sees that cinder-strewn 
grave — ” The horror of it as it must appear to 
the son of Paul and Helen Frangois checked the 
trend of his meditation. He looked gravely at 
Jean, and as the conviction of the latter’s ignor- 
ance of recent events impressed itself more and 
more upon him, he shook his head sadly. 

The click of the glasses as Silas laid his hand 
heavily upon the table, in an effort to regain con- 
trol of himself, recalled him to a sense of his duties 
as host. Unmindful of the look which his com- 
panions gave him, he poured out three liberal por- 
tions, and surveying with pride the walls of his 
retreat, proceeded to make his guests acquainted 
with the history of the hunt trophies which deco- 
rated them. ‘^Long John,” his favorite long-bar- 
relled gun, lay on its rack over the mantel. It 
required but a glimpse of it to make Silas become 


TWO TRAVELERS 


25 


eloquent over the recital of their mutual adven- 
tures. With it he had brought low the proud 
bearers of the four antlers that hung on the 
smoke-blackened panels of the den. Did he not 
also owe to ^Tong John’’ the beautiful bear skins 
which provided rugs for the floor ? — and was it 
not the same faithful friend who had dealt the 
death blow to the monstrous bull buffalo, whose 
head, with wild eyes and distended nostrils, hung 
on the rear wall ? Each Indian club and toma- 
hawk dangling from wooden pegs in the hewn 
logs had a history of its own. As for the tripod of 
flint-locks, that was a relic of Colonel Clark’s 
campaign, at Kaskaskia; the horse pistols and 
holsters were accouterments in Sam Houston’s 
Texas struggles; the swords had come from France 
and done service in both countries — France and 
America, their original history dating back farther 
than Silas’s memory could recall. By the time 
these reminiscences were marshalled before the 
minds of his audience, not forgetting the old 
swords and guns suspended over the oak chest — 
they had been found in a cave in the Ozarks — 
two more glasses of whiskey had been poured out 
and swallowed without anyone, not even Frangois, 
taking account of thto. 

Silas noted with satisfaction, however, after 


26 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


emptying his glass for the third time that Jean 
was not backward about keeping up with him and 
Douglas. 

^^Sufficient unto the day is — but he checked 
himself in time, and to keep up the conversation 
he called on PauFs son to give a reckoning of his 
ten years’ wanderings. 

The young man readily consented. Flushed 
from the influence of liquor, like one unaccustomed 
to excesses and who is sensitive to its effects, he 
appeared to pay but little attention to the pre- 
sence of a stranger and spoke freely of his reasons 
for leaving his home, — giving reasons that Silas 
had never quite understood until then. 

^When I went away,” he began with a wink at 
Dade, ^T was only fifteen. As you know, for a 
long time my father had been goading me into it 
in more ways than one. The good soul, according 
to his way of thinking, meant well, as I know now, 
but I could only look upon his reproaches from the 
viewpoint of a husky, restless backwoods lad. 
Bitterly did I resent his nagging, that I Vould 
never make a man’ to bring credit and honor on 
his name, in France. Therefore, the day I stole 
away through the dwarfed post-oaks of his be- 
loved Bonne Terre, I resolved that I would never 
come back, or send a message, until I had made of 


TWO TRAVELERS 


27 


myself a man worthy of his regard. My idea at 
the time, of course, was that the only way to ac- 
complish that end was to become a man of re- 
nowned fighting ability. 

suppose I could easily realize my boyish 
dream, for I have developed into a strong, healthy 
man, with a body so massive that it scarcely knows 
its strength. But as I grew, I acquired a better 
insight into my father’s meaning, thanks to a 
learned and good Franciscan priest in the far-off 
mountains of California, who educated me and 
gave me the priceless knowledge of another world. 
My father is a religious man, but, as you doubtless 
know. Uncle Silas, some past event in his life has 
cast on him a shadow, which even my mother’s 
affection has never been able to dispel. I did not 
understand it at the time, — becoming restive 
under its spell, but experience has since taught me 
to be more tolerant of idiosyncrasies of this life. 

^^At times, I longed to return to my old home, 
but I realized that in this part of the country 
educational advantages are limited, so I tried to 
be patient and profit from the teachings of the 
Padre, who took such a deep interest in my wel- 
fare. I felt, moreover, with justifiable pride, that 
if I could earn a little gold, and return with the 
proof that I was able to support myself, and, if 


28 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


need be, my father and mother, I might venture 
to stand before the door of the cabin, at the foot 
of Blue Hill up the valley yonder, my 'youthful 
resolve carried out. 

“Apparently, the opportunity I was seeking 
came to me one day, in San Francisco, as I was 
strolling about the wharves. A sea captain, famed 
in that port, came to me and said he was looking 
about for a young man with a small capital to go 
in business with him. 

“I had been giving lessons and my savings at 
the time were beginning to assume fair propor- 
tions. I listened to him in silence, fearful that 
the amount I had might not be sufficient for his 
purpose. His plan was this : with a little back- 
ing, he could collect a rich cargo in Chilean ports, 
sail round the Horn, then back to the States; the 
profits would be sufficient to start a young man 
well in life. I hesitated to mention my anxiety 
about being myself an applicant for the partner- 
ship. But as we conversed, we became gradually 
better acquainted, and overcoming my fears I 
spoke to him freely of my ambition. To my sur- 
prise, within a few minutes we had agreed upon 
putting our savings into a common pot, and a few 
days later, fully manned and provisioned, we 


TWO TRAVELERS 29 

sailed out of the Golden Gate in our little brig, the 
‘Marietta\” 

The young man had been speaking rapidly, Silas 
listening attentively, somewhat bewildered by 
Frangois^s volubility; at times finding it difficult 
to follow or get the exact significance of the re- 
marks, — accustomed as the old man was to back- 
woodsmen^s point of view and language. How- 
ever, he was deeply interested, and all the while 
his hand rested near his glass, — forgetful of its 
proximity. Not so with Douglas. He listened 
with a certain amount of deference at first, then 
with an appearance of abstraction as he sipped the 
contents of his glass. While Frangois, recounted 
how their cargo was stored in the holds of the 
vessel and how they cleared the Strait of Magellan 
and headed northward where they were overtaken 
by terrific storms which increased in violence until 
they reached their climax near the West Indies, 
the St. Louis man was so absorbed in his own 
thoughts that he seemed unaware of the presence 
of the men seated at the table. Unobserved, 
twice he replenished his glass. The account of the 
wrecking of the Marietta, told dramatically, failed 
to arouse him. Nor did he seem interested in the 
rescue of Frangois, who with four sailors were the 
only ones saved-^ the brave captain and the rest 


30 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


of his crew going down with the boat. Likewise 
he remained indifferent to the recital of Fran- 
cois's landing in New Orleans — to his short but 
picturesque description of his first glimpse of the 
old southern city whither he was taken by his 
rescuers, — near the French Market, its cosmopo- 
litan life tingling with color and animation ; bustle, 
industry, and idleness in free and easy comming- 
ling; the frenzied activity of vendors contrasting 
with the leisurely attitudes of loungers at the 
cafe stands; representatives of nearly every de- 
gree of European civilization elbowing their way 
through the Latin population, ranging from the 
purest type of the race down through a series of 
various stages of adulteration to that of the dark- 
est child of Africa. 

Gradually Frangois's voice lost its vibrant quali- 
ty, and he concluded in subdued tones : 

“From New Orleans I came up to St. Mary's by 
boat." 

The fire of experienced-seasoned manhood shone 
in his eyes, but emotion fanned by the memories 
of his battles and the disappointment which at- 
tended his praiseworthy effort to win a fortune, 
caused a slight trembling of his lips. 

“When I walked out on the gang-plank at St. 
Mary's," he continued, “I carried no gold. But 


TWO TRAVELERS 


31 


the desperate longing to see my mother was too 
strong. I gave in, and with increasing eagerness, 
I struggled through the deep snow to reach this 
spot. To-morrow, though empty-handed, I shall 
see my father and embrace my mother.^^ 

Dade fought down a lump which rose up in his 
throat. Then he turned his chair from the table 
and gazed into the fire. Frangois had folded his 
arms and was leaning back, a set look in his eyes — 
repressed feeling taxing his self-control. 

The fire no longer blazed brightly. The logs 
were reduced to that state where a slight shock 
would have sent myriads of sparks upward. Only 
the back-log of hickory emitted, at intervals, jets 
of blue flame, and Dade watched for their appear- 
ance and disappearance, seeking to distract his 
mind from the genuine sorrow he felt for his old 
friend^s son. 

During the silence that followed, the flames also 
attracted Frangois's attention. But for him, they 
were the lodestar which drew his thoughts gently 
from the restless, disquieting past into the peace- 
ful future. And he thought — of the next day’s 
meeting and reunion. 

A sudden collapse from the man they had for- 
gotten for an hour or so, brought Dade and Fran- 
gois to their feet in a second. The thought flashed 


32 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


into their mind : ^The fiery Kentucky liquor has 
been too much for him. He is no longer young 
and vigorous.’^ 

Frangois supported him while Dade removed 
the demijohn and glasses. Presently, revived, 
Douglas motioned the young man away from him. 
Frangois seated himself next to his old friend, and 
both studied intently the city man’s face. Al- 
though affected by the liquor, it was evident that 
he was thinking deeply — in the grip of a thought 
that fought for expression. Once he swayed from 
side to side, then forward as if about to fall, and 
Dade started to his help, but he suddenly steadied 
and Dade reseated himself. For a man sixty-nine 
years of age, he was wonderfully preserved. His 
rather rugged and angular features, drawn and 
set in reflection fascinated his companions. 

Liquor plays pranks with the most sedate of 
men, loosening tongues, firing brains, making 
demons of quiet spirits, — but also, at times, it 
awakens the heart in pathos and remorse. Doug- 
las was under its spell. After a little struggling 
he delivered himself of what was on his mind. 

''Y — you and your stho-ry, young man,” he be- 
gan, between hiccoughs, ‘^reminds me — of — a 
sthory of a young man who did — me a great 
service in life. Be — be danmed, after all, if I 


TWO TRAVELERS 


33 


could hold up, yes, hold up — my gray he-ad to- 
night, i- - f it hadn’t been for hi -im. 

“This was a likely Er - ench lad, a - - couple of 
years ol-der than I, when he came to St. Louis and 
engaged to work for my father in his import and 
export business. His name was, Paul Grennard. 
He came from Prance. Hi - is father drove him 
off, too — because he did something — just some 
political caper, but it enraged Napoleon. 

“Paul and I loved the same girl, and — and 
he gave her over to me. Da - - damn, it would have 
been better that neither of us loved Theresa !” 

“Theresa !” repeated Dade frowning and nar- 
rowing his eyes. 

“Theresa?” asked Prangois. Then as he re- 
ceived no answer he looked again towards the 
fire. 

There was silence for a minute. 

“Ye-es, Theresa !” repeated Douglas vehem- 
ently. 

The two men raised their heads simultaneously, 
— on the alert for some startling discovery, — 
but Douglas, after a few incoherent words lapsed 
into a tirade on domestic troubles, — in a general 
way. 

Dade arose and assisted the old man to bed. He 
returned presently, and for a few minutes enter- 


34 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


tained Frangois with some inconsequential re- 
marks, — clearly as a blind to avoid opening up a 
distasteful topic. Francois replied mechanically. 
He was busy with his own thoughts, and was quite 
relieved when Dade suggested they retire. 

Far into the morning, both tossed on their pil- 
lows, each wondering if the story they had heard 
had really to do with the life of the old Master of 
Bonne Terre. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE NEW MASTER OF BONNE TERRE. 

When Dade and two of his boys went to feed 
the horses and other stock at five o’clock the next 
morning, which early hour of rising is the custom 
in that country, PranQois was still awake. The 
excitement in anticipation of meeting his parents, 
the possibilities in the mystery of his father’s fam- 
ily in France, and the ever recurring review of the 
past, aU united to drive sleep from him. He did 
not hesitate, therefore, to get up, but fairly bound- 
ed into his clothes to hail with gladness the new 
day. What a pity shadows must soon fall! — a 
shock of sorrow within an hour was destined to 
wipe out the cherished dreams of a decade I awak- 
ening in him a sense of his loneliness in the 
world I 

After completing his toilet by carefully brush- 
ing his hair and beard, he went to the window and 
looked up the valley towards Blue HiU, where his 
father’s estate. Bonne Terre, spread over three 


35 


36 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


spurs of the Ozarks. The snow storm was over. 
The unbroken coverlet of white, Elvinas Hill to 
Boyer^s Point, lay before him sparkling even in 
the dim light of dawn. Its thick sheets weighted 
down the cedars outside in the glade. The gate 
posts wore high-pointed caps; long, glittering 
bands of fluffy flakes clung to the weather side of 
the trees; and the spring branch which ordinarily 
bubbled noisily down the rocky gulch, was quite 
choked with the downy mass. Frangois’s heart 
swelled with pride as he viewed this beautiful 
panorama, and his breast heaved with emotion as 
he vowed never to live elsewhere in the wide 
world, save in those hills that he had known in 
boyhood, those hills where God is, and where men 
live close to nature’s sweet and gentle influence. 

Thus permitting his eyes to wander lovingly 
over the familiar landscape, he began to locate the 
homes of the old neighbors by following the long 
blue columns of smoke that ascended from the 
chimneys. This, at first, was a subconscious act 
of his mind. But very soon he took a lively in- 
terest in the search. Off to the right, where a 
cluster of feathery wreaths floated lightly in the 
high dome of the heavens, lived Jake Robins; 
higher up, Pete Smith — there was Dick Flynn’s 
also; and Abe Conrad’s over yonder; Adrien Val- 


NEW MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 37 


le’s here ; Ed Buchard^s there. This new pleasure 
soon took complete possession of him. Immedi- 
ately that he began to recognize the places, he na- 
turally enough strained his vision to find the 
curling column from Paul and Helen Frangois’s 
chimney. He went over the ground carefully sev- 
eral times, murmuring that he should certainly be 
able to see his own home. However, a tiny streak 
of smoke might be invisible at a distance of two 
miles. Still, he kept on trying to locate the small 
log house by this and that landmark. 

‘^Yes, yes,” he said after fixing upon the spot, 
^fit should be just there, at the base of old Blue 
Hill. I can’t see it — perhaps the light is not right. 
Oh! I know why I can’t see Pap’s smoke now. 
Pap and Mam are older than when I went away — 
they don’t get up as early as they used to do when 
I was at home.” 

This joyous explanation was about to suffer a 
disquieting blow as a result of his own added com- 
ment, ^‘But the others still get up early,” when 
Dade called loudly: 

^^Come down! come down to breakfus — we’uns 
don’t lie abed of mornings in these here hills. You, 
Frangois ! you had oughter know better. Git right 
down here, all of you’ns.” 


38 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


FranQois answered promptly: coming, 

Uncle Silas/' 

There was a general rumbling in all parts of the 
house as the family started to mobilize. 

Even the hounds gave deafening yelps at the 
prospect of the beginning of their festivities. 

Frangois’s identity was not yet known to the 
household. Dade whispered a few words in Mam's 
ear, which caused her to start and catch her breath 
in excitement. She did not speak to her daugh- 
ters, and they, being ignorant of the guest's name, 
continued to be shy and exceedingly reserved. 

Just as the men and Dade seated themselves 
about the table, an interruption was caused by 
one of the hound's turning over a jar of cream. 
When the worst of the hurrah had subsided, Fran- 
gois took advantage of the moment of distraction 
to scrutinize Donald Douglas. 

The old city chap sat on the other side of the 
room from Frangois — so it seemed from the width 
of the structure covered with eatables. Frangois 
had met dozens of this type of fat man in his 
travels. They were all good-natured, more volup- 
tuous than ordinal y men, and always attracted 
more attention. Douglas’s excess, the night be- 
fore, taking him off guard and loosing his tongue 
to tell a story of special interest, made him the 


NEW MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 39 


subject of inquiry. Frangois liked him, but while 
everyone listened to Mrs. Dade who was scolding 
the poor crouching hound, he tried to read the big 
man through and through. First of all, Douglas 
impressed him as a mass of solid, heavy human 
flesh. Then he searched the pleasant, large face — 
it was double-chinned, awry at the corners of the 
mouth, and angularly pitched from the front view. 
The red skin, bespattered with small broken sur- 
face veins, was visible beneath the covering of wav- 
ing beard. His ears lay flat against his head. The 
lower lip was a trifle thicker than the upper — the 
deacon of the kirk variety. Nose and cheek bone 
seemed offended at this defect, and drooped sharp- 
ly toward the wide straight mouth. But the result 
was the typical, smiling Scotch face. The light 
blue eyes — one decidedly squinted — ^were there, 
too. At these orbs of merriment and information, 
Frangois^s quest came to a halt. He did not like 
their nervous, darting motions. He altered his 
opinion somewhat — believed Douglas weak, possi- 
bly a sufferer from a hidden fault. Heeding the 
clue from Douglases eyes, he ran his gaze swiftly 
over the man before, as if to justify a fair judg- 
ment by giving proportions and ampleness a 
chance. The conclusion amounted to pigeonholing 


40 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


the records for the future, labelled: ^‘Excellent 
company, but tricky and will bear watching/' 

Dade observed Frangois’s secret sizing-up of 
Douglas, and followed his example. The processes 
of his mind in analyzing the Scotch-American were 
totally different from those used by Frangois, but 
the backwoodsman formed his judgment first. “By 
cracky!" he whispered to himself, “that's a fellow 
you'll like, 'though he's liable as not to steal your 
horse and kiss your wife when you're not lookin'!" 

Then Silas fell to wondering whether or not 
Paul Frangois and the Paul Grennard of Douglas's 
story had any connection — might be the same, as 
indicated by their mutual acquaintance with one 
Theresa. 

Immediately after breakfast, Douglas and Por- 
ter occupied themselves with two of the young 
Dades in planning the day's hunt. Silas had al- 
ready excused himself and Frangois from partici- 
pation in the chase for that day. Therefore, they 
were counted out. Dade had a difficult duty to 
perform, and was anxious to see the party off. He 
felt more at ease when he and Frangois wished the 
men with the guns and hounds good luck and a 
safe return. While shrinking from the ordeal ahead 
of him, old Silas would not willingly have relin- 
quished the task to another. Had not Paul, when 


NEW MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 41 


dying, given him a sort of guardianship over Jean? 
He had always been rather flattered by old Paul’s 
friendship, and this last trust gave him a sense of 
importance that raised him in his own estimation. 

The old white-haired, backwoods innkeeper and 
the new Master of Bonne Terre stood at the front 
gate for several minutes, following the movements 
of the hunters as they toiled along the steep hill- 
side through the snow. They watched also the 
other boys as they wound their way with axes and 
mauls to the clearing. Preparatory to leaving, 
Frangois turned, and noted on the kindly face of 
his old friend, a troubled, far-away expression. He 
was taken aback, but dared not speak as he was 
ignorant of the cause of this change. Dade gave 
a sudden start and grasped Frangois’s arm: 

‘‘Come to my room,” he said, in a tone that 
struggled to sound calm. “Perhaps I hadn’t 
oughter have kept things from you so long, but I 
just couldn’t afore now.” 

This surprising announcement of forthcoming 
bad news almost stupefied Frangois. He stood 
motionless and stared at Dade. The reaction was 
quick. Quite automatically, while he searched 
Dade’s very soul for an explanation, his brain 
gave the clew, — something whispered in his ear: 
“There was no smoke from Bonne Terre’s chimney 


42 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


this morning The big, muscular Frangois, with 
rigid limbs and bowed head followed Dade towards 
the room where he had spent the previous evening 
in such high spirits. 

As they seated themselves once more about the 
small table, Frangois said in a husky voice: 

^^Uncle Si, why didn’t you tell me last night?” 
just couldn’t!” 

^^But had I known, I wouldn’t — ” 

^^Yes, yes; I know, but I hadn’t no thought be- 
sides taking a couple of drinks — to brace up, an’ 
then I ’tended to tell you, but you saw for yourself 
how it was. ^He’ was there, so we had to keep up 
an’ talk, an’ have more drinks — that’s how ’tis — 
one always leads to another, an’ two drinks to 
more ’n double.” 

‘^Speak, Uncle Si, it is crushing me. Tell me 
the worse.” 

^Tt’s bad of me, I know, but I allowed it was for 
the best,” still urged Dade, unwilling to begin, — 
racking his brain for an excuse to postpone the 
blow a little longer — 'Tou see ’t wasn’t my — 

^^Mother’s gone,” cried Frangois. “I feel it.” 

‘Tes, Jean.” 

'^And father is — alone. I must go to him a^ 
once.” 

^^No, Jean, he’s gone, too.” 


NEW MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 43 


Uncle Si!^’ 

Frangois arose quietly and stood before the fire. 
He covered his face with his hands and trembled. 
His frame shook violently as he grappled with a 
grief that stifled him, that reduced his strength to 
that of a child. For a while he suffered with the 
heavy, difficult giving in of a strong man. For full 
ten minutes Dade watched him in silence, then as 
he saw the reaction set in he left the room, and 
returned in a moment with his great coat and cap 
on. Handing Frangois his out-door wraps, he said 
simply: 

‘^Come.” 

In silence the two men left the house and start- 
ed off up the valley towards Blue Hill. Dade 
walked ahead, picking his way through the snow. 
Frangois followed a few paces behind, his head 
still bowed, his face quite drawn and pale. 

Just once did he say anything: 

‘men, Si?^^ 

“Three days ago — ^buried yesterday.’’ 

A tightening of the lips to repress a groan was 
the only visible effect of the answer as the son 
trudged on and on until he and Dade neared the 
spot where the cabin once stood. Wonder, emo- 
tion, and grief blanched the young man’s features, 
and he glanced questioningly at Silas who had 


44 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


stopped and reverently removed his cap. The 
backwoodsman^s attitude enlightened him. Fran- 
Qois’s lips quivered and he did not seek to hide the 
tears that trickled and dropped on the mound at 
his feet. The desolation of the place made him 
sick at heart. 

Still, in contrast to the day before, — Silas noted 
it thankfully — Nature had undertaken to conceal 
from the sorrowstricken son the full horror which 
the charred remains of his old home would have 
called forth, by spreading over the whole scene, her 
mantle of spotless white. Only the sides of the 
chimney, blackened by the funeral pile, had re- 
fused to lend themselves to the scheme, and the 
tall massive structure stood outlined, grim and de- 
fiant, against the surroundings, — just as old Paul 
would have had it. 

Frangois finally spoke: 

“Poor Dad! he carried out his threat, — ^but 
where is mother ^s grave 

“Both here, Jean.” 

Frangois crossed himself, and fell on his knees, 
calling touchingly and insistently on his mother. 
He wept freely until the fullness of his grief was 
spent. Then burying his face in the snow, as 
though he were resting it in his mother's lap, he 


NEW MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 45 


lay still and silent over the ash-strewn grave, obli- 
vious of the world. 

For a good haK hour he remained thus, then Si- 
las who had withdrawn beyond the large oaks 
which grew at some distance from the house that 
had been, came back and helped him to his feet. 

“Come,^^ said he again, in a gentle voice. YouVe 
no longer a boy, Jean. You’re used to this here 
cold world. I’ll tell you more about it later. All 
I’ll say now is that your good old pap an’ mam 
died peaceful like. You’d forgotten they was old 
even when you left. I was there when they’ns 
went, an’ everythin’ was done as old Paul told me. 
Come! you’ll have to stand it. You’re the new boss 
of Bonne Terre, an’ you’ll have to look after it, — 
’twas your pap’s wish. At present, my home’s 
your home. You’ll git the san’ under your feet 
again.” 

The good old fellow grasped Francois’s arm 
firmly and led him down the hill. 


CHAPTER IV. 

RE-INSTATEMENT. 

Backwoodsmen are just as exclusive in their 
associations as any social circle in London or Paris, 
although the requirements for fellowship in the 
hills are vastly different. It is more difficult to be 
admitted into confidential relations with the Ozark 
backwoodsmen than it is to *^get into society” in a 
most select metropolitan set. Money is not the 
chief asset in those Missourian hills. In order to 
live unmolested, and enjoy their clear, pure air, 
one must be absolutely free from suspicion, simple 
in dress and habits, in sympathy with backwoods 
life, and — a good shot. Also a man is preeminent- 
ly better off who stands six feet high in his socks 
and is abundantly blessed with muscle and brawn. 

Francois possessed the advantage of having been 
born in those parts, and the commendation of his 
father on his death-bed had secured him an in- 
valuable friend in Silas Dade. But in spite of all 
this, he had endangered his birthright by an ab- 
sence of ten years. Moreover, the cloud which 

46 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


47 


hung over Paurs early life, had grown somewhat 
darker through the smoke of that strange funeral 
of fire. It is true that the backwoodsmen had all 
been friendly to Paul and Helen, — there was al- 
ways so much in common in their lives, — and de- 
spite the old Frenchman’s queer ways, he and his 
wife had been friends in need to the whole country 
round about. These people were bound to respect 
the secret of such generous and devoted neighbors, 
but in their opinion, — so long as they kept it from 
strangers, — it did not preclude the right of dis- 
cussing the nature of that secret in the family 
circle. Besides, the promise given to Silas, on the 
evening of the funeral, was given under the stress 
of strong emotion, and did not in any way refer to 
Paul’s son, whose unexpected return awakened all 
their dormant curiosity. 

Nearly all these simple people remembered a 
curlyheaded youngster, and in his stead they were 
confronted by a large, tall black-bearded man in 
whom they vainly looked for the youth of fifteen. 

So, when the novelty of Jean’s return wore off, 
the old-timers said among themselves : ^^Jean 
Frangois haint much like his pap, an’ he haint 
’zactly one of us. He ’pears to be edercated; 
furthermore, he don’t go to our church.” 

In a short time many indications to the exis- 


48 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


tence of ^^feeling’^ against Francois became obvious 
to Dade. He warned his young friend, but the 
other laughed and replied that he did not give 
serious thought to the matter. ‘^At any rate,” mut- 
tered Dade, ‘^you have muscle enough to command 
respect.” 

Frangois shrugged his shoulders. 

Dade spoke up plainly: 

^They'ns don't take you for what you are — I 
haint afeerd you can't take keer of yourself — ^but 
you might run the risk of foul play. Just be keer- 
ful and don't flinch.” 

The Dade boys, although quiet and law-abiding, 
ruled the neighborhood by sheer force of fists. 
Each of the five young giants had won his ^‘spurs” 
by ^flicking” some would-be bully. They were 
staunch believers in Frangois and when some spoke 
slightingly of him in their presence they warned 
the backwoodsmen, saying: 

‘Trangois haint to be tinkered with — ^he kin lick 
the whole passel of you'ns.” 

As time went on, the slumbering distrust of 
Frangois became more pronounced. The people 
watched his every move that they might find a 
justifiable excuse for ostracizing him publicly and 
thereby forcing him to sell Bonne Terre and leave. 
But he never gave them a chance. He dressed as 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


49 


they did, and was quite fair in matters of royalties 
on the lead he permitted them to take out of his 
pocket mines. He attended all their public meet- 
ings with apparent indifference to the risks he ran. 
At the shooting matches, no man drew a neater 
bead than Frangois. In hunting he carried off 
highest honors. At the annual gathering of strong 
men, held on Elvinas Hill, soon after his return, he 
easily won over all competitors. 

Shortly after Frangois went to live with the 
Dades, it was murmured that the mysterious son 
of queer old Paul was sheltering himself under the 
wings of the five young giants. Silas wanted to 
tell Jean then of this reflection on his courage, but 
hesitated lest he wound the young man^s feelings. 
At all events the step was unnecessary. Frangois 
had absorbed those rumors from the air, as it 
were, and quietly went to work and built a log 
house near where his father^s had stood. Then he 
went to live in it alone. 

This move was criticized. That is to say the 
house was made the subject of comments. “It^s 
the same queer way,” folks said. ^Taul never did 
have no outhouses of any kind, — no smokehouse, 
no henhouse, no barn; — an^ he never owned no 
stock of any sort. IPs funny, haint it?” 

When all other avenues for fault-finding seemed 


50 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


to be closed, the people hit upon something which 
was capable of more possibilities. This is how it 
began: Frangois had labored for several weeks 
building a stone wall about the foundation of the 
old house, that he might protect the grave of his 
father and mother. When it was finished, he got 
a man to come and carve the names and usual in- 
scriptions in the arch stone of the chimney that 
was left standing. The people said, at first, that it 
was perpetuating the memory of those who had 
wished to be forgotten. Later they began to 
whisper about ghosts and fiames that appeared 
above the walled-in graves. Some went so far as 
to state that these weird specters ''hanted^^ Jean’s 
house and were heard to converse with him at 
night. 

Dade laughed at these silly people. Seeing that 
they persisted in spreading those rumors, he de- 
cided to speak to them, ‘^You seem to forgit how 
kind old Paul was to you’ns. There haint nary of 
you’ns what cried at his’n and Helen’s funeral. 
An’ when I asked you for a pledge, you stuck up 
your paws like monkeys, yes, like monkeys. Git 
out! the whole lot of you. You’ns haint afeerd of 
hants nohow, an’ if some of your old wimin is, 
you sure haint pertending to think that old Paul 
an’ Helen would tech one of you’ns to harm you. 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


61 


Who was always the furst to go to you when 
you^ns was taken bad? Warn^t it pore old Helen? 

‘^No, taint that, the truth is you don^t like Jean. 
Well, if you don’t, you don’t; but be men about it. 
Bide your time an’ be keerful you don’t ’fend him 
unjustly or I tell you, he’ll lick every one of you 
like a passel of school kids.” 

After this, most of them were really ashamed, 
and for a time, went quietly about their business. 

For many years there had been two factions 
among the hunters and backwoodsmen that lived 
in the vicinity of Bonne Terre. One was led by 
Dade and his boys ; the other, by a stalwart farmer, 
originally from Virginia, named Frank Bardsdell. 
At one time the differences that accumulated from 
year to year had almost precipitated a fight with 
rifles, Kentucky feud style, when the Dade boys, 
in a fist and club encounter, triumphed over Bards- 
dell, his two sons, and four others of their gang. 
By tacit consent, this was accounted a settling of 
the difficulties, and gave the championship to the 
Dades, — the ^ffiill” code of ethics, or rules of honor, 
compelling everyone to acquiesce and forget by- 
gones. Dade was a ^^son of the sod,” highly re- 
spected, and the same applied to most of the op- 
posing faction. Indeed, no fault could be found 
with Bardsdell, who came of good Virginia stock, 


52 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


and, who, though blessed with money and broad 
acres, lived among them in real backwoods style. 
Other men in his faction were entitled to claim 
their rights as lawful citizens of good repute. 

Of course, bygones were bygones, but there was 
no guaranty that new offenses might not again 
draw party lines. If such should again be the 
case, old memories would be resurrected to embit- 
ter the impasse. 

Of Bardsdell's sons, Joe towered above his 
father. The faction, therefore, transferred its al- 
legiance to the younger man. Also, in the Dade 
faction, Bud Dade stole his father^s popularity as 
leader, and began to take first place in the man- 
agement of affairs in the neighborhood. 

The Bardsdells lived east of Dade's Inn, about 
three miles, as the crow files. 

There was a whisper going the rounds that a 
new contest was approaching between Joe Bards- 
dell and Bud Dade. 

When Frangois appeared on the scene, both 
sides shared more or less in the criticisms against 
him, so that he was equally in danger of clashing 
with either. 

Besides pocket mining in Bonne Terre, the farm- 
ers raised cattle for sale in the St. Louis market, 
to provide cash for home purchases. The cattle 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


53 


were grown by 'Turning them out to range,” as it 
was called there, which meant that the cows and 
calves were turned out and permitted to roam over 
the hills and fatten on wild grasses. Each farmer 
identified his cattle by means of ear-marks, or 
holes, forks, crops, and slits cut in the calves’ ears 
at weaning time. Hogs and sheep were marked 
in the same manner. Therefore, one man would 
refer to his cattle as "a slit in the right and a crop 
off the left;” another’s would be "a slit in the 
right and an under-bit in the left etc. In the fall 
of the year, men would go to the forests and drive 
the cattle home. Buyers would then come along 
and purchase the fat ones for the market, driving 
them off to St. Louis in great herds. 

The first fall after Frangois’s return in winter, 
Donald Douglas came again to hunt. He had made 
many friends on his previous visit and had become 
much impressed with the country, so Dade was not 
surprised to see him again. On this trip, he was 
accompanied by his son, Daniel, the only child of 
his marriage with Theresa. One evening, as Fran- 
gois and the two Douglases were returning from a 
day’s shooting, they stopped at Dade’s Inn. 

Frangois was often seen in the older Douglas’s 
company. At first, Dade wondered at it. The re- 
collection of the old man’s recital of "remin- 


54 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


iscences’’ on a certain night, which amounted to a 
confession of guilt, had not faded from his mem- 
ory, and he watched with great interest the course 
Frangois had adopted towards the St. Louis man. 
Was he ^‘hidin’ his time?’^ Well, he, Dade, was 
not going to interfere. Jean was old enough and 
big and strong enough to look after himself. Pauhs 
old friend lulled his troubled conscience to sleep 
with the plea that the story might be attributed to 
the “more ^n two glasses,” which Douglas had im- 
bibed. He found it difficult, in broad daylight, to 
associate disgrace with such a genial countenance. 
Still, the name of Douglas’s benefactor and savior 
coincided strangely with the name that Paul’s dy- 
ing lips had tried to pronounce. At times, Silas 
was on the point of discussing the matter with 
Frangois, but he could never quite make up his 
mind about it, — Douglas was so pleasant. Not 
only Silas, but all that came under his influence 
felt a great attraction for the big city man, who, in 
spite of his advanced years, had such fresh, jolly 
ways. 

But, was Dade right? Was Frangois “biding” 
his time? Douglas’s story, although mumbled 
and confused, had made an impression on him. He 
had not questioned it nor the narrator on that 
“special night,” because he thought that sooner or 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


55 


later he would get the truth from his father. But 
now, since Paul Erangois was dead, how could the 
son clear the mystery that had clouded and em- 
bittered his father's life? Douglas would not wil- 
lingly refer to the matter again, and Jean might 
not question him without arousing his suspicions. 
He would have to wait for Douglas to commit him- 
self a second time. With that end in view, he ac- 
cepted all the invitations tendered him by the 
Dade boys to join them and Douglas in hunting, 
meaning aU the while to use every minute for 
studying the old man. Naturally, the pleasures 
of the chase shared together drew them nearer, 
and the intensity of his purpose waned as he be- 
gan to enjoy more and more the elder man's com- 
pany. The transition was gradual, — it followed 
several disappointing attempts to turn Douglas's 
conversation to episodes of his younger days when 
he might inadvertently throw a clearer light on his 
previous disclosure. The old man's charm of 
manner was irresistible, and imperceptibly Fran- 
gois succumbed. After all, he argued frequently 
with himself, what proof had he that his father 
was the hero of Douglas's story? Silas had never 
discussed with him the probabilities of the case. 
Now, with the coming of the younger Douglas, 
conversation drifted in other channels and Fram 


56 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


gois allowed himself to drift along pleasantly in 
company more or less congenial. 

On this particular evening, the two Douglases 
and Frangois found the Dades in a fever of excite- 
ment. One of the BardsdelFs hired men had just 
delivered a message, in the form of an ultimatum, 
to Silas Dade. Mr. Bardsdell informed Mr. Dade, 
that the latter had sold the week before to Birch 
Morrison, the cattle buyer, three red cows belong- 
ing to the Bardsdell herd ; Mr. Dade was to call at 
once, and pay Mr. Bardsdell the sum of one hun- 
dred and fifty dollars, this amount being the fair 
market value of the cows. 

An indignant reply was sent back to Bardsdell, 
to the effect that the Dades had sold only their 
own cattle; that Mr. Dade and his sons were not 
cattle thieves; and that the charge must be cleared 
up at once and proper apologies made. 

After reciting to Frangois and his companions 
the main facts. Bud Dade added: 

‘We^uns, Dad an’ me, haint never been ’cused 
of stealin’ afore this, an’ Joe Bardsdell an’ his 
dad ’ll rue this day. We’uns licked the whole 
bunch of ’em once over election disputes, but that 
haint a patchin’ to what they’ns ’ll git this time. 
Me name haint Bud Dade if I don’t mash all their 
noses in a jiffy. They’ns must ’pologize afore sun- 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


57 


down tomorry, or by gosh, we’uns ’ll be on ’em like 
wild cats!” 

Bud Dade’s threat was not made in blatant, 
high-handed braggadocio, but in grim, measured, 
earnest tones that meant fight. Frangois listened 
in silence. The elder Douglas gave a low, dis- 
quieting whistle. Dan, a handsome, dashing city 
young man of twenty- two, said : ‘^You’re right. 
Bud. Go at them with tooth and nail.” 

Before going, and after taking leave of the 
Dades and the Douglases who made their head- 
quarters at the Inn, Frangois turned to Bud and 
said: 

‘'Be careful what you do.” 

The next day, instead of an apology, the consta- 
ble came over and arrested Silas Dade and his son. 
Bud, on the charge of stealing from Frank Bards- 
dell three cows marked with holes in their right 
ears, said cows being of the market value of one 
hundred and fifty dollars. 

While the five boys were cleaning and loading 
their rifles, out on the porch, — ^hot-headed Dan 
having taken Bud’s place, — Frangois was seen 
passing the gate on his way home and called in. 
Amid great excitement he was told of the happen- 
ings of the day. One vied with the other in curs- 
ing the Bardsdells and the Bardsdell faction. All 


58 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


swore that they were going over immediately to 
shoot the lot of them —all they were waiting for 
was for Pap and Bud to get back from giving bond, 
when they would go over in a body, armed to the 
teeth. What was Frangois going to do? they in- 
quired with one voice, expecting of course that he 
would join them. 

Frangois sat down on the step and said quietly : 

^T’m going to wait until Uncle Si and Bud re- 
turn.” 

In a few minutes, Silas and Bud came up riding 
at full gallop. They, also, were excited to the 
point of joining in the most desperate expedition. 

^Think of it!” began Silas at once, addressing 
Frangois and the group at the door, ^Tve lived in 
these here hills nigh on to seventy years, an’ my 
father come here from Car’liny when St. Louy was 
a village. Now I’m ’cused of stealin’ ! Think of 
it! By damn! they’ns ’ll pay for it with blood, this 
very day. Hear me, boys?” 

''We’uns is with you. Pap,” cried the boys, in 
one breath. 

Bud sat on his horse, grinding his teeth together 
in black rage. Words failed him, and on his face 
was written revenge to the last drop of blood, the 
revenge that drives a man to seek out his enemy 
^>nd tear him limb from limb. 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


59 


Silas began anew: 

‘‘Think of it! The constable says Bardsdell 
says, says he : ‘I hate to do it, but Birch Morrison^s 
two drivers know my marks an^ swears the cows 
are mine.’ Hates to do it! eh! — abates like hell! 
It’s to git even. He also says old Nan Simpson ’ll 
swear she saw me an’ Bud drivin’ ’em home from 
Turkey Holler. Saw me an’ Bud! — Me name’s 
not Dade if I don’t clean out the whole kit of ’em 
afore this day ends. The perliminary trial is set 
at Squire Moore’s next Thursday at ten, — to-day 
coming week. Ha! ha! By damn, there haint go- 
ing to be no trial! — ’cause there won’t be no 
’cusers an’ witnesses. What you say, boys? Haint 
I right?” 

“We’uns is with you. Dad.” 

Had Frangois or anyone in the crowd remon- 
strated, the fury of the Dades would have swept 
them out of their path. But the general acquies- 
cence, — although Frangois had not committed him 
self as yet, — ^had a soothing effect on the general 
wrath, — especially on Silas’s. He turned to the 
young man : 

“What do yojii say?” he spoke ip calmer tones. 

Tom interposed: 

“We’uns done asked him that, but — ” then he 


60 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


asked roughly: ^^Why don^t you speak out? Haint 
you one of us?'^ 

While all eyes were turned upon Frangois, he 
deliberately stooped down and picked up a small 
bit of pine that lay on the boards near his feet, and 
after examining it most carefully, began whittling 
it. This insignificant act, so coolly done in the 
midst of such excitement, held the attention of 
those about him. He continued whittling in sil- 
ence, as if greatly interested in the proceeding, to 
all appearances, unconscious of being spoken to. 
Tom shook himself impatiently, but Dade placed 
a restraining hand upon his arm. The older man 
understood that Frangois was carefully weighing 
the case before speaking. Bud grew impatient 
and indicated it by a grunt. The others waited in 
silence looking from their father to Frangois, sur- 
prised at his sudden calmness which he seemed 
to have absorbed from the younger man’s. 

^Well, Uncle Si,” said Frangois at last, ‘TVe 
been away from these parts too long to dare give 
you advice. All I can do is to express my opinion. 
Even in this case, I could not induce myself to 
speak out but for the fact that you were my 
father’s friend, — his best friend.” 

There was a slight shuffling of feet as the listen- 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


61 


ers changed their positions, — drawing a little 
nearer Frangois. 

^^You and Bud stand before this community ac- 
cused of a crime. The question is this: If you 
ride over to Bardsdell this afternoon and shoot 
him and his followers, will you prove yourselves 
innocent? WiU that act clear you before the 
world? Or, will it not add murder to the existing 
charge? For this last the law is bound to punish 
you, and if you escape its penalty, you can only 
do so by retreating into the wilderness and hiding 
there for the remainder of your lives, — ^you and 
your sons. As it is, you are not guilty. There- 
fore, the proper thing to do is to prove beyond a 
doubt that you did not steal the cows, and by do- 
ing so you get the upper hand on Bardsdell who 
must ever afterwards suffer the humiliation of 
having been in the wrong.^' 

For five minutes all remained silent. Fran- 
gois^s ^^opinion,^^ was in reality such good advice 
that it came very near having the desired effect. 

Dade, who, as a rule, was inclined to look at 
things soberly, asked : 

‘Then it^s your advice to let the law take its 
course?” 

“Yes,” replied Frangois firmly. 

“Well,” said Dade, “perhaps youVe — ” 


62 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Before the old man could say another word, 
Bud, who had dismounted his horse, pushed him- 
seK into the circle. His countenance was as dark 
and sullen as an Indian warrior’s, and he glared 
savagely at Frangois: 

want to tell you, Jean Frangois, that your 
advice, — or opinion, — ^haint going to influence me 
— if the others — ” anger cut his speech short. 
Dade spoke up quickly: 

^^Boys,” said he, ^T’m beginnin’ to think ser- 
iously that Frangois is right. We must clear our- 
selves first of all of the charge that rests on our 
name, then — ” 

‘Then,” interrupted Frangois, “if you really 
think you must, Bud an’ the boys, and you and I 
can go over without rifles and lick the Bardsdells 
and their faction ‘hill style.’ Smashed noses and 
broken heads do not make one guilty of murder. 
Furthermore, it has always been the custom, here, 
to avenge wrongs with the fists and not with 
weapons. Over in the Ozarks proper, some do 
shoot, and from ambush, too, but as you knotv, 
they are moonshiners, not backwoodsmen.” 

This last speech cleared the horizon of honor 
and was cheered lustily. Bud was last to give in. 
A feeling of distrust gave a nasty sting to his 
words: 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


63 


'TranQois, I'll do like the rest, but I want you to 
know that I haint hankerin' after jaw from a feller 
like you, — who's edercated so that he must think 
different from us an' — isn't one of us nohow!" 

The insinuation cut Jean to the quick, but he 
answered : 

^^That's what I hear some say. Bud, but I was 
born in these hills, and I'm going to be one of the 
backwoodsmen just the same." 

guess you'll have to consult me," and Dade's 
oldest son drew himself up to his full height and 
glowered at the intruder. 

This time Francois returned Bud's stare, and as 
he turned from him to speak to Donald Douglas 
who was calling to him from the front gate, he felt 
that sooner or later he would have to reckon with 
Bud Dade. 


Since coming back into the Ozark Hills, Fran- 
gois had acquired a genuine attachment for the 
people. He was passionately fond of hunting, of 
hunting alone, and, in roaming through the forests 
for miles in every direction, he soon renewed his 
boyhood's love for the countryside with its springs, 
its brooks, and the patches of clear blue sky that 
peeped from the clouds above it. While standing 
on the brow of Dry Bones, a majestic hill four 


64 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


miles from Bonne Terre, on a surpassingly clear 
day, his heart swelled with pride as he beheld the 
landscape spreading out before him, — the tree- 
clad ridges with here and there bald spots of rock, 
overlooking scattered groups of farms with various 
sized fields of ripening grain; the deep, tortuous 
stream, known as Big River, winding in and out, 
its crystal pools and swift currents bordered by 
high, picturesque bluffs, — and he vowed he would 
live for the people and the land of his birth. 

Consequently, the Bardsdell-Dade rupture 
caused him much anxiety. For three days he 
hunted continuously, alone, that in the quiet of 
the hills he might think out some plan or find some 
effective means of averting the serious trouble 
near at hand. He realized that he had calmed his 
friends only momentarily. Should the Dades fail 
to establish their innocence conclusively, on 
Thursday next, their fury would break all bounds. 
Even before then, a chance meeting of any of the 
Bardsdells and Bud might bring about serious re- 
sults. Of course, the Dades knew nothing of the 
missing cows, but how prove it to the already- 
prejudiced accusers? No way occurred to Fran- 
gois. The more he puzzled over the situation, the 
gloomier grew the prospect. Was there no one he 
could appeal to? no one who could intervene? His 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


65 


heart sank when he thought that the peace of the 
backwoods would be broken up for years to come. 

With these reflections uppermost in his mind, 
Frangois was fighting his way through the dense 
undergrowth at Pigg's Ford, when his attention 
was attracted by the noise of splashing water. He 
peered cautiously through the branches just as 
Virginia Bardsdell, on a large black horse, rode out 
of the stream. A plan came to Jean^s mind at 
once. This was surely the way out of the trouble. 
Why not persuade Virginia to intercede for peace? 
Surely when told of the impending trial, with its 
direful consequences, her sympathies would be en- 
listed in the cause he had so much at heart. Al- 
though he had never seen the girl before he never 
doubted but that she was Frank Bardsdell’s 
daughter, whose extraordinary beauty, of a type, 
rarely, if ever, seen in the hills, was the subject of 
varied conunents about Bonne Terre. Moreover, 
he knew her by the horse she rode, — he had seen it 
quite frequently grazing in the Bardsdell pasture. 
His heart beat faster, but not from the anticipa- 
tion of selfish enjoyment. He was concerned in 
the meeting only so far as it might affect the in- 
terests of his neighbors and childhood friends. 
And because this young girl was the only daughter 
of Frank Bardsdell, — the idol of his household, — 


66 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

he judged that his plan had a very good chance of 
success. 

As the big horse struggled to climb the steep 
incline of the high bank, Frangois stepped to the 
side of the road, his cap in one hand and his rifle 
in the other, and there awaited the approach of 
the graceful girl of fifteen who sat her mount so 
lightly. His mind took in at a glance the details 
of her attire, and, as a natural consequence, of her 
loveliness which was emphasized thereby. A 
dress, severely plain, but of some soft, clinging 
material, cut square at the neck, and exposing 
dimpled arms well above the elbows, outlined her 
yoimg figure in white against the dark satin coat 
of her horse and the richly colored foliage of the 
trees across the road. Her hat, a broad-brimmed 
straw, white also, had slipped on the back of her 
head as far as the streamers of black ribbon knot- 
ted about her rounded throat permitted, leaving 
her hair, glossy as a raven’s wing, free to fall in be- 
coming waves about her ears and brow. Contact 
with the fresh air and the exercise required to 
manage a spirited animal had intensified the nat- 
ural color in her cheeks until it matched the 
crimson of her delicately outlined lips. And her 
eyes, large, black, and merry, shone like stars as 
she leaned forward and stroked Sam’s neck caress- 


RE-INSTATEMENt 67 

ingly as a reward for his successful ascent, — an 
expression of childlike enjoyment lighting up her 
features. As yet, she had not noticed the presence 
of the stalwart new Master of Bonne Terre, who 
stood motionless in her beautiful young presence, 
as if stricken with sudden timidity. Virginia made 
a movement to readjust her hat, but was inter- 
rupted by Sam, who, now that he had recovered 
from the exertion of climbing and had sighted 
level ground, was impatient for a canter. Fran- 
Qois realized that every second was precious. He 
stepped boldly in front of horse and rider. With 
a start, the young girl reined in her mount with 
the result that he snorted, pawed, and reared. 

beg your pardon,’’ said Frangois advancing 
as if he would come to her aid, but she already 
had the animal under control. 

am sorry I frightened your horse,” Frangois 
murmured contritely, “but I must speak with 
you.” 

The arched eye-brows drew close together in an 
angry frown, and the flush on her cheeks spread 
over her entire face and neck. “Who are you?” 
she asked. 

“My name is Jean Frangois, and — I believe I am 
addressing Miss Virginia Bardsdell?” the intruder 
stammered in a tone of apology. 


68 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


'Tes/' she said, bowing ever so slightly. Her 
composure was returning by degrees, but a super- 
ior look of outraged dignity and a determined set 
of the lips transformed, in a twinkling, the child 
of a while ago into a young woman, whose wits, 
sharpened by the habit of self-reliance, became her 
strong weapons. The young man was amazed. 

“Again, I beg your pardon. Miss Bardsdell, but 
I do so wish to speak with you.'' The task Fran- 
Qois had set himself seemed more difficult than he 
had thought. The slightest encouragement would 
have been gladly received. 

“And you stop me here, on the public road to 
tell me that! You kin just bet that I won't stop 
here much longer." With a sudden jerk of her 
head she added: “How dare you — Mr. Frangois, 
when everyone says you haint even — one — ?" Be- 
fore the look of pain which stole over the man's 
face, she hesitated. 

The incomplete remark again cut Frangois to 
the quick and the blood surged to his heart. But 
he looked up steadily into the girl's eyes and re- 
plied: 

“I know I should have come to your house. I 
admit that, but the idea I have in mind only oc- 
curred to me this minute when I saw you crossing 
over yonder. If I may have your permission to 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


69 


explain to you my mission, you will see that it is 
of sufficient importance to excuse my apparent 
want of courtesy.” 

^^Speak then, but do so with as little ado as you 
kin,” she condescended, at the same time giving 
him a defiant, unflinching look. Then she looked 
straight ahead in the direction she intended to go. 

^Thank you,” said Frangois, see it is this 
way, I have been considerably troubled about the 
Dades, and it is concerning them I would like to 
speak. I feel that if you — ” 

^Tndeed!” she interrupted angrily. ^Then if 
you think Idl hear any plea for thieves, youVe 
mistaken. Good-day, Mr. Frangois.” 

Sam received a sound slap on the neck and 
bounded off with his mistress before Jean could 
put in a word of defense. 

''Humph!” he cried, "what a spitfire!” 

Baffled in this attempt at peace-making, Fran- 
gois resigned himself to let events take their course. 
All he could hope was that before the last minute 
something would come up to clear the threatening 
cloud. As a last alternative, he spent the remain- 
ing four days before the trial in searching the for- 
ests for BardsdelFs missing cows. No trace of the 
cattle was to be found, and the next day aU those 


70 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


concerned in the case were to meet at ^Squire 
Moore’s. 

The morning began with all the splendor that 
heralds an autumn day in the Ozarks. The sun 
streamed over red and goldtinted tree tops and 
flooded the hills and valleys in profligate profu- 
sion ; flocks of blackbirds chirruped merrily in the 
tall sycamores; cow-bells on the hillsides clanged 
as the herd browsed on the last wild sprigs of 
grass; but the peaceful calm that hung over nature 
seemed to Frangois the lull before the inevitable 
storm. 

By nine o’clock, the country folk began to as- 
semble at the log schoolhouse where ’Squire Moore 
held his justice court. The Prosecuting Attorney 
had arrived the night before, accompanied by 
Hugh Bartlett, of Farmington, who had been re- 
tained by the Dades to defend them. A quarter 
of an hour before court convened, the schoolroom 
was packed with men and women, among them, 
Virginia Bardsdell. The lawyers were busy in- 
terviewing witnesses. These were huddled in 
groups in opposite corners, — eyeing each other. 

At last, the constable rapped for order, saying: 

'^Hear ye! hear ye! hear ye! this Honorable 
Court of Perry Township is now in session.” 
’Squire Moore adjusted his spectacles and called 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


71 


the case : ‘The State of Missouri versus Silas Dade 
and Bud Dade. James White, Prosecuting At- 
torney, came forward and filed a paper. 

Again 'Squire Moore adjusted his spectacles and 
announced to the hushed audience: 

‘The State for divers reasons an' objections 
prays a change of venue to Big River Township. 

“There being no further cases, court is now ad- 
journed." 

At once there arose a hubbub of disgust from 
every side. Over in one quarter loud talking be- 
gan, which threatened to precipitate trouble. 
Everyone had come to see the issue tried out, and, 
of course, a delay was very disappointing.* The 
constable pounded loudly on the desk for order, 
and commanded all to leave the room quietly. 

Frangois rushed to the door, in an attempt to 
forestall the Dades, for he thought a clash between 
the Bardsdells and the Dades very probable, as 
soon as they got clear of the building. Frangois, 
noticed that Virginia BardsdeU was first to go out,, 
and it again occurred to him to appeal to her to 
occupy her father's and brothers' attention while 
he took charge of Silas and Bud Dade. Surely, 
her good common sense would induce her to be 
reasonable and follow his advice. 

By the time the peacemaker got out of the door^ 


72 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


however, the crowd had already separated, by 
common consent, as it were, — preparatory to hos- 
tilities. Nevertheless, he hurried to Virginia, and 
with everyone’s eyes turned on him, unconscious 
of the effect he produced on those about, he ad- 
dressed her in an undertone. 

The on-lookers heard her say quite distinctly 
and clearly: 

“Me speak to my father and brothers! Indeed, 
Sir!' what do you take me for, and how dare you 
address me?” 

Joe Bardsdell was at Francois in an instant, and 
roughly pushing him aside, slapped him in the 
face. They paired off in the open to settle it there 
and then. The crowd closed about them in a wide 
circle, some hooting and some shouting. 

But Dade, white with rage, ran out and took 
hold of Frangois. “What right have you, Jean 
Frangois, to mix in my fight?” 

“Get back in line. Bud Dade; I’ll attend to you 
as soon as I’ve finished with Bardsdell.” 

“Come back. Bud!” shouted a dozen excited 
men; “take your turn, you’ll have a chance at him 
before long.” 

Bud stepped back in the circle. 

After throwing their coats behind them, the 
two men fac5ed each other. All jeering ceased. A 


RE-INSTATEMENT 


73 


rough and tumble fight, imprecedented in the 
backwoods as far as the size and strength of the 
combatants were concerned, was about to begin. 

Joe Bardsdell, the champion whipped by Bud 
Dade two years before, scowled at the broad- 
chested, tall, big-boned young Frangois who must 
defeat him if he hoped to fight Bud Dade, the 
bully of the hills. BardsdelFs square-set, almost 
savage features were livid with anger. His eagle 
black eyes flashed fire, his sun-burnt arms quiv- 
ered with their own strength. He tightened the 
wide leather belt about his waist and went at 
Frangois. 

Frangois, standing coolly waiting the while for 
the onslaught, fastened his eyes on the human 
beast that rushed at him. The attack was met 
with a measured jab of the fist that staggered his 
opponent. Bardsdell rallied and dealt his oppo- 
nent a blow that brought him to his knees. Then 
they met in earnest. Sledge-hammer strokes fell 
so fast that no one could follow them. They 
clinched and rolled about in confusion, — the 
breathless crowd listening to the dull thuds doled 
out from elbows, and the muttered oaths which 
occasionally escaped from Bardsdell^s lips. 

There was a moment when the combatants were 
in such tension that neither moved. This was fol- 


74 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


lowed by a hoarse, gurgling sound, and presently 
Frangois stood up, leaving his antagonist limp on 
the ground. 

Before the onlookers could express their ap- 
proval or disapproval, stooping, he picked up the 
recovering Bardsdell, lifted him high above his 
head, and to the amazement of the rough back- 
woods mob, threw the kicking, swearing Joe in a 
heap at the feet of the astonished Virginia! 

The woods echoed with a cheer. Hats and caps 
went up into the air and the circle closed in about 
the victor. 

But without losing a minute, Frangois, who had 
motioned the crowd off, turned to Bud Dade and 
yelled out to him defiantly: 

'^Corne forward!” 

As Bud stepped out to defend his title, another 
deafening shout rent the quietude of the hills. 

There were no preliminaries, no bantering, no 
side sparring. The fight took at once such ter- 
rific proportions that all sides gave way and wid- 
ened the ring. It was first one on top, then the 
other. No one could predict who would come out 
winner. Tfie crowd could only see that the con- 
testants were shirtless as they wallowed in the soft 
^arth and beds of dry leaves while tell-tale pools 


r r 



I 


t 


I 










L.BU.l^ .A ! i »3 |g. g y» 



RE-INSTATEMENT 75 

of blood spoke of the fierceness of the struggle. 
Still, no one interfered. 

By a quick wrenching the giant antagonists 
freed themselves and rose to their feet. For five 
seconds they glared at each other. Then Bud ad- 
vanced like a battering-ram. Francois delivered 
him a clean right hand blow that laid him out full 
length. Three times Bud got up and bolted sav- 
agely to his black-bearded foe, only to be knocked 
down harder and more cleverly than before. The 
fourth time, he could only raise himself on one 
knee. The crowd pressed forward somewhat. 
give up cried Bud as he sank back. 

Frangois looked about him for more foes, but 
none came forward. Cheers broke out from every 
throat — the winner was their champion, their 
hero. Four of the big fellows shouldered him be- 
fore the excited crowd and carried Frangois twice 
about the schoolhouse. There were no longer any 
factions. Every man screamed: ^^Frangois! Fran- 
gois wins!” 

In the midst of this bedlam, there came bellow- 
ing over the brow of the hill three sleek red cows 
followed by barking dogs and two men on horse- 
back. One of the men raced up to the crowd and 
right into it before he could stop, and asked ex- 
citedly: 


76 THE MASTER Of BONNE TERRE 


“Whar do Franik Bardsdell live? Them thar 
blarsted cows of Mssen have been in my corn- 
patch over beyan Bischtown nigh unto two 
months.” 


CHAPTER V. 


THE DANCE AT DADE's INN. 

When the significance of the return of the red 
cows dawned upon the already excited assemblage, 
joyous pandemonium ensued. The Bardsdells 
promptly apologized to the Dades and the stigma 
on their name was for ever removed. In the gen- 
eral good feeling that followed, Joe, Frangois, and 
Bud made up and agreed to let the fights be re- 
membered only as by-gones. Even yirginia came 
forward, and after complimenting Frangois on his 
wonderful strength, — somewhat timidly for one as 
frank and outspoken as she, it must be admitted, 
— offered him her hand. The movement was a 
mixture of grace, bashfulness, and spontaneity, 
and Frangois understood the feeling that had 
prompted it. The first impression she had made 
upon him at Pigg’s Ford was revived with full 
force and he forgave her subsequent treatment of 
the would-be peacemaker. 

Being so occupied in complimenting each other 
and in wiping out old grudges, the three witnesses 


77 


78 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


at whose instigation the charge had been made 
were momentarily forgotten. But Joe caught sight 
of them as they were slipping away — Morrison’s 
two drivers and old Nan Simpson. Joe raised a 
hue and cry, and ready hands seized them and 
dragged them back to be judged on the spot. 

What to do with them was put to a vote, but the 
majority wanted to hang the men and whip the old 
woman from Turkey Hollow. That would not do. 
Frangois was appealed to, and he advised letting 
old Nan go, under promise never again to meddle 
in other people’s business and never to recross the 
river. As for the men, since they had families, 
their punishment should consist in a '^ducking” 
in Big River. As the river was but a few yards 
away their sentence could be put in execution at 
once. Furthermore, they should take the oath 
never again to bear false witness. The men, whose 
teeth chattered from fear, begged for any punish- 
ment except death. The now hilarious tribunal 
unanimously adopted Frangois’s views, so old Nan 
and the cattle drivers were brought forward, and 
the whole crowd moved in procession to the river 
bank and looked on while Frangois and Bud, 
assisted by Joe, swung the offenders aloft and 
dropped them sprawling into the deep water. 
They swam and scrambled out to the opposite 


THE DANCE AT DADE’S INN 79 


bank and slunk away through the dense under- 
brush. This closed the incident. 

Once back at the schoolhouse Silas Dade 
mounted the style block and addressed the people: 

^‘While me an’ me boys an’ me old woman was 
powerful mad over this here business, we’uns is 
quite willing to forgit it now, and thar won’t be 
any sting of it left. It haint ’zactly a blessin’ in 
disguise, it’s a sure ’nough blessin’, out an’ out, 
for it haint only cleared us, but it’s done away 
with all bad feelings. Besides, we’uns have found 
a leader — (loud cheers for Francois) of which, 
howamsoiver, we’uns oughter to be justly proud.” 

Bud whole-heartedly threw up his hat and 
commanded three cheers for Frangois. These were 
given lustily and the deafening noise went rolling 
down the river to frighten flocks of water fowl 
and many a wild deer that hid in secluded shelter- 
ings down stream, or sipped from the sparkling 
flood. 

Silas continued: 

^Tt’s beflttin’ that we’uns meet again, under 
different circumstances to seal tighter the bond of 
friendship started today. Therefore, listen all, 
me an’ the old woman invites you an’ your fam- 
ilies, your frien’s an’ their families, the fellers an’ 
their best gals to a dance at Dade’s Inn next 


m THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Thursday night — all night. Every one of you’ns 
an’ all is welcome.” 

The general invitation of the Dades was ac- 
cepted with great glee, and the crowd then dis- 
persed, talking, not so much of the events of the 
day, as of the one to come. 

During the next week there was great enthu- 
siasm in preparing for the dance. Mingled with 
this, were the numerous comments on Frangois, 
but after all was said, only favorable esteem re- 
mained. The majority accepted him as a hero, — 
a bully, — but the wiser ones appreciated the sterl- 
ing qualities of which he had given evidence, and 
regarded him as an honorable man. The younger 
set wondered if he would be leader at Dade’s 
dance. 

On Thursday evening, while it was yet twilight, 
groups of light-hearted backwoodsmen began to 
arrive at the Inn. There, all was in readiness. 
Mrs. Dade and her daughters received the girls, 
conducting them to rooms where they could ex- 
change their dress for the one they had brought 
along for the dance, and also put on their ‘‘nice” 
shoes. The young men stopped at the woodpile 
to chat with Bud and Tom, and whittle and chew 
tobacco. The older men congregated in the store 
with Silas. So by and by, in this characteristic 


THE DANCE AT DADE^S INN 


8l 


way, the grown-up members of the entire com- 
munity were soon gathered at Dade^s Inn, ready 
for the night^s amusement, — at a party where 
everybody was somebody, and had an equal right 
to enjoy himself. No ill-feeling marked the event. 

At last, the fiddlers began to key up their in- 
struments. This was the signal for all to gather 
in the great sitting-room, which on such occasions 
became the ball room. The visitors came troop- 
ing in and sat down in the chairs arranged in a 
continuous row around the walls. 

Among this jolly company were pretty moun- 
tain girls, chewing gum and blushing, as rugged 
farmers^ boys and hunters cast sly glances at Jane 
and Susan and Sal. There were others of both 
sexes, both homely and sombre. Old man Douglas 
was conspicuous in his frock coat and white vest. 
As for Dan, every girl and boy, every old man and 
spectacled dame, gazed wonderingly at the young 
chap in his city clothes. Then there was lovely 
Virginia Bardsdell, secretly envied by all the lass- 
es. Though haughty in her manner to strangers, 
Virginia was at heart very simple and sweet, as 
those who knew her intimately could testify,— 
and she could count a host of friends in and about 
Bonne Terre. This evening, clad in a pretty white 
gown and wearing neatly fitted shoes on her small 


82 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


feet, she was by far the most attractive figure at 
the dance. 

Seated around the room, and standing in the 
doorways and crowded in the halls there were a 
great variety of people present, and still more va- 
riously were they attired. Many of the young 
men wore coarse hunting jackets and high top- 
boots — only a few could boast frock coats, and 
those who did were either too large or too small for 
the garment. Perfumes and powder were very 
little in evidence. 

From the elevated platform set up over the wide 
hearth of the great fire-place, the musicians start- 
ed off with the first tune, ^‘The Buffalo Girl.” It 
was, of course, for an old-time square dance. The 
requisite number of couples soon stood out on the 
floor, and when the music began, they slapped 
their feet on the broad planks and swung off easily 
into the dance. 

Tom Dade called the figures. He sang them off 
in a deep, musical bass voice, which never failed 
to grip the hearts of dancers. ^^Balance partners 
all! — Swing!” he led off. There was a hum and a 
rhythm to everything — the ball was begun. 

As usual, humpty-dumpty Jane danced with 
tall Pete Wiggins; spry Katie Jones nestled her 
head on fat Terry Grimm’s shoulder; and Sallie 


THE DANCE AT DADE^S INN 


83 


Dade clung to her ^Teller” who had her monopol- 
ized for the night ; so on. Virginia BardsdeU had 
been led out by Dan Douglas. They made a 
pretty pair as they tripped lightly in the joyous 
set — gay with many colors, but toned down some- 
what by the rough, sombre dress of the young 
men. After the first swing, a spirit of hilarity 
took possession of the dancers, and amid bursts of 
laughter Tom Dade could be heard rolling out the 
calls: 

''All ban’s to right an’ left — duck ’em, Jane! 
Change! — fir-st to the right, th-en to the left! 
Back ’em up an’ fool ’em thrice! — Couples on the 
corner, promenade! — roll’er Pete! — chassez aU! — 
Han’s roun’ — balance to the center! — Swing!” 

The fiddlers played all the old pieces dear to 
the memories of the dancers and the elderly folks, 
— "Askansas Traveler,” "The Goose in the Bog,” 
"The Devil’s Dream,” "Fisher’s Hornpipe,” 
"Black-eyed Susan,” and scores of others. Reels, 
quadrilles, and jigs were equally enjoyed by the 
laughing young people, either chewing gum or eat- 
ing apples, walnuts, and molasses candy which 
Mrs. Dade and her daughters passed around. The 
old folks looked on good-humoredly, chuckling, or 
jesting at the mistakes and awkwardness of some 
dancers. 


84 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Near midnight, Dade and Bardsdell stepped out 
on the floor, and Silas announced that the next 
set would be chosen by them. The girls and boys 
were to acquiesce in their choice of a partner with- 
out comment or argument. The men were to be 
four of the biggest and strongest, and the ladies 
among the fairest. 

A buzz of tittering and inquiry went around, 
but was soon hushed to see what the two old citi- 
zens would do. 

‘TT call the men,” said Bardsdell, ‘^and Si’ll 
match ’em up.” 

He promptly called out: ‘‘Jean Frangois!” 

Up to that time the young man had not danced, 
but enjoyed himself immensely, talking to groups 
of girls and boys and looking on. He wore a neat 
homemade suit of gray jeans and thin brogan 
shoes, and although his attire was not as attractive 
and smart as Dan Douglas’s, he looked comfort- 
able and striking. 

He came forward quietly and took his place. 

“Virginia dances with the champion of the 
hills!” announced Silas proudly. 

Virginia blushed, as she took her place by the 
Master of Bonne Terre. 

“Joe Bardsdell,” announced his father. 

“Jennie Dade,” said Silas. 


THE DANCE AT DADE^S INN 


85 


‘^Bud Dade/’ called out Bardsdell. 

‘‘Susie Gibson/’ and Silas winked mischievously 
at his son. 

Frank McHenry and Sylvia Moore were select- 
ed as the fourth couple. 

The music started, Tom’s call chimed in, and 
the crack set moved in quick time. 

The promises of Dade and Bardsdell were made 
good in their choice of dancers. Four finer young 
men, physically, could not have been found in the 
entire hill district. The girls, too, were handsome 
specimens of young womanhood, — no prettier 
lasses could have been selected in any gathering. 
The neighbors and friends who looked on approved 
Dade’s and Bardsdell’s choice, and congratulated 
themselves that their almost unknown wayside 
community could boast of as fine men and girls as 
could be found anywhere. Altogether, that final 
set before supper was a crowning success. 

Up to that hour Jean Frangois had reveled in 
his own self-sufficiency, — no woman had ever en- 
tered his life. Not because of any eccentricity or 
peculiarity in him, for these found no haven in his 
makeup, neither did vanity nor self-seeking. Hard 
experiences had failed to dim his clear vision for 
future usefulness, and moderation in all things 
had fortified him against ordinary weaknesses, 


86 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


while successes and triumphs became mere step- 
ping stones to a broader capacity for effective 
prowess. So, when he touched the fair hand of 
Virginia in the roUicksome scurry of the dance, 
and measured her graceful, sylph-like form with 
curious, boyish eyes that belied the semblance of 
sedateness and seriousness which his dark beard 
lent to his countenance, the sensitive, unblem- 
ished plate of Frangois^s heart was free to receive 
a well-focused impresion of her beauty and sim- 
plicity. 

Subtle awakenings of mind and heart are not al- 
ways heralded by the trumpetings of conscious- 
ness, or Jean’s manner with his partner at the 
supper table whither he led her after the special 
set, would have been marked by embarrassment. 
Perhaps it was his unsophisticated self that permit- 
ted him to be charmed without reckoning with the 
golden threads in which he was becoming en- 
tangled ; perhaps, again, it was Virginia’s own un- 
spoiled sweetness that lulled him into complacent 
acceptance of a new thrill, making of him a willing 
wanderer in an unknown field of supreme ecstasy, 
taking no note of the time-worn guide-posts mark- 
ing the way. As for the sting of touched pride at 
their first meeting on the river bank, ten days be- 
fore, it was completely forgotten. The fact that 


THE DANCE AT DADE^S INN 


87 


her presence and pleasant chatter were soothingly 
enchanting did not alarm him. One by one the 
minutes flew, until the hour of intermission passed 
away as a brief pause on the outlook over a 
hitherto unknown valley of richest splendor. 

The discordant tuning up of Addles gave warn- 
ing that the ball was about to be resumed. Quick 
glances were exchanged, indicating that swapping 
of partners was about to take place. Smiling, Vir- 
ginia arose to join the bevy of merry girls. Some- 
how this interruption of his loiter in fairyland 
jerked Frangois back rudely into reality, — a 
semblance of self consciousness making him ap- 
pear awkward. Blushing, he began hastily: 

‘T thank you for your company, and — 
Virginia interposed. 

^TVe enjoyed yours, Mr. Frangois, and I feel 
that IVe got really acquainted with you.^’ 

^^You are very kind, for my dancing is awkward 
and clumsy. I wonder -that you tolerated it, also 
my accounts of rough life on the plains — 

‘'Why, Mr. Frangois,'' interrupted Virginia, “you 
sure must have danced with them lovely Francis- 
cans you told me of, for you are so light on your 
feet. As for your talk of Western 'speriences, I 
want you to come an' sit on the front porch to my 


88 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


home some day soon, an’ tell it all over agin. Pa 
an’ ma ’ll be delighted to listen to you.” 

'Tf you mean this as an invitation, I shall 
come.” 

^'Sure I do. We’ll be powerful glad to see you. 
Only if you do come, let it be before Wednesday 
week, ’cause pa an’ ma have it in their heads to 
send me to Richmond to school. You know they 
comes from ’Ginia — that’s why they named me — 
an’ they’ve got high-ferlutin’ notions about eder- 
cation an’ specially mine.” 

^Well, you must take advantage of it,” said 
Francois. ^^As sweet and lovely as you are you 
will not know yourself when you come back.” He 
was himself once more, his eyes alone betraying 
the feverish interest with which he followed the 
girl’s every movement as he stood towering above 
her. 

Virginia was standing also, her hands resting on 
the back of a chair which she tilted as she swayed 
with the rhythm of the music, keeping time with 
one foot — a daintily slippered foot encased in a 
white stocking, a lace ruffle depending from some 
unseen garment fluttering just above her ankle. 
The same rich color suffused her cheeks as when 
Frangois first saw her, at Pigg’s Ford, and her eyes 
beamed with the same joy of living. Her hair, 


THE DANCE AT DADE^S INN 


89 


arranged in several rows of curls — unruly black 
curls that bobbed up and down with every toss of 
the head — was caught up on one side with a large 
bow of white ribbon. A tight-fitting, square- 
necked bodice with short sleeves frilled at the el- 
bows, and a wide, very full skirt of white poplin, 
the secret envy of her companions who viewed 
with wonder its gradual fiare from the thick, 
heavy gathers at the waist-line down to the deep 
hem, had about them a touch of elegance that dis- 
tinguished the wearer from the gingham-clad 
guests come from the surrounding hills. 

During Frangois’s last comment with reference 
to her schooling, he had seen her make a sign to 
someone — evidently standing back of him. Turn- 
ing slightly, he saw a tall, fine looking matron, 
dressed very much like the women of those parts. 
One glance at the girl before him and the young 
man knew the person to be her mother. 

Virginia caught the look in his eyes and nodded : 

^^Yes, thaFs Ma. Well,” she continued, ^T’m 
awful hankering to go to school. I really want to 
learn, so I’ll do my level best. Howamsoiver, I 
guess I oughter be goin’. I don’t want to miss this 
dance. Why, I think they’ve already — ” 

'^One second,” cried Frangois, “When shall I go 
over to — sit on the front pordi?” 


90 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


She had started across the room so she called 
to him over her shoulder: 

*'Say Tuesday night, if you can.” 

'^I’ll be there at seven in the evening.” 

^That suits. I’ll be looking for you.” With a 
wave of her hand she was gone to join some 
friends. 

A moment later as she swished by, her skirt 
brushed against his kijee, and he was electrified by 
the gentle touch — why? he did not know, and he 
did not try to reason out. 

For some cause or other, the music had been in- 
terrupted and the dancers had scattered about the 
place, awaiting the next call. Virginia was with 
another crowd, and her clear, musical voice min- 
gled with theirs in quaint backwoods talk and joy- 
ous peals of laughter, but to Frangois, hers was 
easily discernible in pitch and quality. The young 
Master of Bonne Terre listened and compared. 
When the group moved to the ball room, he fol- 
lowed that not one sound of her subtle and de- 
lightful fresh chatter might be lost to his ears. 
Besides, it was fascinating, — strangely fascinating, 
— to watch her skip here and there, talking to this 
one and that one, as if everyone in the company 
held for her some special bit of pleasurable enjoy- 
ment. 


THE DANCE AT DADE^S INN 


91 


Dan Douglas chose her for the next set and for 
every one thereafter until dawn. Twice when lulls 
came, he and Virginia waltzed to everybody's de- 
light. Frangois was apparently forgotten, but for 
the moment he did not care — ^he wanted to be un- 
observed. The first warning came to him in the 
form of a void in his heart that made it ache. One 
minute he envied the dapper St. Louisian, and 
wished that he had some of his polished city ways, 
or that he could waltz as well; the next, he forgot 
all the world and feasted his eyes on beautiful 
Virginia, who not only monopolized his eyes, but 
many others. By unanimous consent she was 
acknowledged queen of the ball. 

Gaining self-poise, momentarily, Francois up- 
braided himself. Why was he piqued because the 
young girl did not look his way? Why did he fret 
because Dan Douglas commanded all her smiles? 
How did he compare with the rich man’s son, he, 
Frangois, the lonely owner of a blanket of land 
spread over three bald hills? What was he to this 
fair girl? What evil had Douglas done him that 
he wished, at times, to pitch him over the garden 
gate? He scarcely understood, and he did not in- 
terpret these feelings as the entry of love into 
his heart, love — the unknown and unbidden guest. 
For he did not know love, never associated it 


92 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


with himself, and would have run and hid in the 
woods if Cupid had appeared before him undis- 
guised. 

Therefore, for the most part, since nothing else 
remained for him to do, Jean sat in a secluded 
corner, innocently wrestling with the golden skeins 
whose threads had caught him in the midnight 
hour and slowly but surely wrapped and en- 
meshed him body and soul, so that there was no 
return for him into the realms of satisfied single- 
ness in his cottage on Blue Hill. His hands 
clasped on one knee, and his body stiff from being 
held taut in one position, the dreamer^s dream 
was sweeter than the singing of a thousand choirs. 

Somebody said: 

“Day is breaking.’^ 

The music stopped suddenly, and the guests be- 
gan to go. Virginia, in hurrying past Frangois, 
saw him, and said ever so sweetly, with happy, 
smiling eyes; but such a tone of surprise: 

“Why, Mr. Frangois, I thought you’d gone, 
hours ago.” 

For lack of words, he replied: “No, I’m going 
now.” 

That was all. The fact that she smiled upon 
him once more quite compensated him for his long 
wait. It so pleased him that he paused in the 


THE DANCE AT DADE’S INN 


93 


doorway and looked after her and Douglas walk- 
ing down the road without experiencing the feel- 
ing of jealousy that had haunted him part of the 
night. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE LONELINESS OF THE HILLS. 

During the days that followed, Frangois kept 
to himself and lived in anticipation of his visit to 
the Bardsdell home. He reasoned with himself 
as he returned late of evenings along some for- 
saken trail, and concluded he must be mad. But 
he never wavered in his purpose to go on Tuesday 
evening as arranged. It would be an injustice to 
his intelligence to say he had not as yet interpreted 
the feelings which had moved him so strangely 
that night, — at the dance. He acknowledged to 
himself that he was in love, but at the same time 
he called himself a fool, and a big one, as, on the 
afternoon of the day set for the visit, he struggled 
with an iron in an attempt to crease his jean 
trousers to make them look more like those Dan 
Douglas wore. 

Anjnvay Tuesday night found him over at the 
Bardsdells^ They were exceedingly courteous and 
polite to him, but Douglas was here, monopolizing 
Virginia as before, and poor Frangois had to sit on 


94 


THE LONELINESS OF THE HILLS 96 


the ‘Trent porch an’ talk to pa an’ ma,” while Vir- 
ginia and Dan walked in the meadow path. 

There was no slighting. Virginia and Dan 
stopped by the “front porch” occasionally, laugh- 
ing and chatting with the others, but with no idea 
that Frangois looked upon his visit as a “special 
night” affair; hence Virginia felt quite at ease to 
leave him with the old folks. 

Frangois, while waiting for the couple to return, 
that he might speak a few words to Virginia be- 
fore her departure for Richmond, wisely enough 
kept up a show of interestedness in Bardsdell’s 
conversation, notwithstanding the various sensa- 
tions that swept through his mind. 

Just before the return of the promenaders, he 
had so mastered what he considered his schoolboy 
leap into sentimentalism, that he whispered to 
himself, under his breath: 

“What an ass I’ve been for a whole week!” 

But as soon as Virginia’s clear laugh and ring- 
ing voice again reached his ear, he regretted the 
thought. The goodbye was said. And Frangois 
walked home in the moonlight, communing with 
himself, and taking stock of his life. The disap- 
pointment flouted him, but it was just as well 
that he had the excursion in the untried all on his 
own. He was a better man for it. No accusation 


96 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


fell from his lips — Virginia was not to be blamed. 
What had she done to warrant his violent passion? 
— No one knew, therefore, no one could laugh at 
his expense. His humiliation was in secret, but in 
good sound sense, he congratulated himself that 
he had discovered he had a heart. 

'Terhaps,” said he as he sat alone on his door- 
step before retiring, ^^this is a beautiful picture I 
may frame in my heart, a token that God has 
given me to work and live by as the days slip 
away.” 

So, when the sun climbed over the hill the next 
morning, the big, broad-chested Master of Bonne 
Terre shouldered his rifle and slipped away 
through the brush whistling a tune and thinking 
his thoughts without bitterness and without re- 
gret. 

By and by, a changed man, he passed beyond 
the conflnes of backwoods^ settlements and walked 
leisurely along a ridge trail, high above the gulches 
on either hand, from whence he could look out for 
miles over the haze-shrouded Ozarks. He loved 
the loneliness of the hills at all times, because in 
those almost impenetrable solitudes the whisper 
of nature seemed more audible and sympathetic. 
On this particular morning, he loved his surround- 
ings more than ever, not because he was crushed 


THE LONELINESS OF THE HILLS 97 


or sad, for this son of earth was strong and manly, 
but because he carried a secret in his heart. His 
thoughts, if set to rhythmic meter, would have 
been: 

* ‘ To this, my inner house, 

Hold I alone the key. 

What I have here to rouse. 

Hidden, is mine to me. 

Triumph and tragedy 
Mine till my soul depart — 

No one but God and 1 
Elnows what is in my heart. ^ ’ 

Cool breezes from the ridges fanned his smooth 
brow. He felt the surge of blood in his veins. 
Grip fashion, he held his long-barelled rifle in his 
right hand, and swung along, in easy Indian style, 
to give his mind free right of way, — mischievous 
squirrels peeping at him from overhead boughs; 
blue jays hopping along the trail and flying away 
crying: ^^Jay! Jay!’’ A sleek, arched neck buck 
shook his antlers above a clump of hazels, but the 
Master of Bonne Terre passed on unmindful of 
spyings — shunting had no charm for him to-day, 
and his rifle was simply an idle toy of habit. 

But no man can long lose himself in wilds of 
hills and changing scenery without clarifying the 
most muddled problem. Frangois soon reduced 
his thoughts to one simple syllogism, dallied with 
it a moment, framed the conclusion heroically as 


98 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


he had planned it yesterday night, and bravely 
locked it in his heart for ever, or another but very 
distant day. 

‘‘There! that’s finished,” said he aloud, “I’ll go 
over now to yonder lookout and wait for Basil.” 

He quickened his pace, swung the trusted wea- 
pon over his shoulder, and was soon skirting the 
narrow ledge leading to Crag Lookout. There, it 
was his custom to meet, occasionally, old Basil 
Bequette when the two would go and tramp and 
hunt as Paul Frangois was in the habit of doing 
in the days when he and Basil were younger, — 
before Jean went away. The hour of meeting was 
always set for the time when the sun cast a shadow 
on the lookout’s bench. Frangois ran his eyes over 
the overhanging rocks and observed that it was 
early. He would have to wait a while before the 
old hunter arrived. 

Once up on the lookout, the young man sat 
down on the crag’s bench and began searching the 
trail below for the stout, square figure of the old 
Frenchman. Bit by bit, he examined every yard 
of the circuitous path far down in the hollow, and, 
by dint of watching and waiting, he finally made 
out the buckskin clad form of his friend. Old 
Basil never failed to keep engagements. 

As he sat quietly watching Basil toiling up the 


THE LONELINESS OF THE HILLS 99 


difficult path, Frangois fell to thinking of him. 
Why did he look forward with delight to the old 
hunter's company? Because Basil was highly 
educated and well versed in the history of the 
world, and because he was a strange sage whose 
judgment was sound and whose advice, when 
sought, was plain, straightforward, and almost in- 
fallible. Why did the old fellow live the life of 
a hermit in the fastnesses of the hills? That, 
Frangois could not answer satisfactorily. There 
was no evidence of a ruined life — it must be simp- 
ly the trait of eccentricity so often found among 
Frenchmen. Basil showed no bitterness in his 
limited intercourse with mankind. He loved the 
hills, the chase, the call of the wild. Yet, in his 
humble abode, he had a store of books on history 
and science that connected him up with the world 
that had gone on before and the world as it stood. 
Also, it pleased Frangois to listen to the aged hun- 
ter's predictions of future events, based entirely 
upon logical reasoning deduced from the teach- 
ings of learned books and clear thinking, as they 
haunted the deer-licks in sequestered nooks of the 
Ozarks. This rather wonderful propensity of Ba- 
sil was whetted once a year when he made a trip 
to St. Louis with his pelts. 

There was something of boyish glee kindled in 


100 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Frangois’s eyes as Basil drew near. He shouted 
greetings down to him, and got back the usual high 
keyed response. It seemed to the young man that 
BasiFs jacket of undressed deer skins became him 
immensely that morning. The tall beaver cap, 
fringed-seamed leather trousers rather close fit- 
ting, laced moccasins, and a shellbeaded shot 
pouch with polished powder horn, completed in 
fitting taste his primitive attire. Dijon, the faith- 
ful hunting dog, trotted a few paces in front of his 
master. The man's pleasant, intelligent face, 
sparsely covered with a thin beard frosted with 
white, and lighted up by sharp black eyes that 
looked out from under shaggy eye-brows, beamed 
with friendliness as he came within easy speaking 
distance. 

^Well, Uncle Basil, you’re here on time, aren’t 
you?” asked Frangois, raising his voice. 

‘Tive minutes early, Jean. Old Sol hasn’t yet 
cast his shadow to the hump on the bench.” 

^Dh! have you worked it out to such a fine 
point?” 

'Tes, yes; observation, my son. When I went 
to school, in England, the master taught me to use 
my eyes.” 

'T never knew you went to school in England.” 

''Where, then, would I have got my English? — 


THE LONELINESS OF THE HILLS 101 


I don’t say zee for ^the’ like other Frenchmen.” 

'T just thought you came by that from reading, 
or again from hearing somebody who spoke well.” 

^That has helped, but a Frenchman must learn 
English in childhood to speak it correctly and 
without a foreign accent.” 

Basil stood for a full minute studying his young 
friend. Suddenly, he smiled and shook his finger 
in Frangois’s face: 

‘T knew it would come,” he remarked gently. 

“What prank is this. Uncle Basil?” 

“A fair lady! — tell me all about her, Jean.” 

Frangois caught completely off guard, and 
dumbfounded at this proof of Basil’s shrewd per- 
ception, fidgeted and reddened to the roots of his 
hair. He had meant to bury the lapse of his heart 
way down deep in himself until, perhaps, some 
distant day when he should be on a long tramp 
with Basil, far beyond Pilot Knob. But it was 
not to be, for now, in the open of the hills — on top 
of the grandest of them, where the broad azure 
blue smiled unobstructed, Basil exacted the tale of 
yesterday without delay. 

“How did you guess it, Unde?” 

“Boy, I do not guess. The heart thrills with no 
emotion but that its record is written on the fea- 


102 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


tures. I read clearly what it writes on your face/' 

“Yes, yes; you intended to tell me at a time that 
to you would seem more opportune.” 

“Yes.” 

“Ah! and I see that you love her very much — a 
love from which you cannot escape.” 

“But, I'll have to—” 

^^es? Then she does not take you seriously?” 
questioned Basil, tapping his young friend play- 
fully on the shoulder. “Her age or perhaps her 
position — ” 

Frangois more surprised than ever, turned 
squarely around and stared at Basil. 

“Yes, Jean — it's all written indelibly in your 
eyes and face, the love and — . Tell me about it. 
Do not mind the trees, the rocks, the loneliness of 
these noble hills, nor be ashamed that youth and 
manhood have met and crystalized in the supreme 
passion — love. You can not escape it if you would 
live. Without it you are as a scarecrow stalking 
about to frighten humanity; with it you are the 
embodiment and fulfillment of the nobility of 
man.” 

And there, on Crag Lookout, in the stillness of 
the hills, far from the world and nearest God's own 
heart, Frangois unlocked the gilded chamber and 


THE LONELINESS OF THE HILLS 103 


brought forth the beautiful picture to the sympa- 
thetic view of the old Frenchman. He spared no 
detail. Every word found a kindly lodgment in 
Basiks breast. And when the story, old as the 
hills themselves, and ever more wondrous, was 
told, the old man^s eyes were dimmed despite his 
efforts, and the young lover’s were fixed on the 
distance, as if staring at a vision that was fading 
away. Basil took Jean’s hand: 

^^Hope, my son. This hope, if your heart be 
stout, will lead you far, and, perforce, make of you 
the man of your father’s dream. Ah ! how often 
did he speak of you to me on this same nature- 
kissed spot.” 

With that the subject was dropped. Frangois 
picked up his rifle, and he and Basil, the dog lead- 
ing on, went slowly down the trail. 

Once out for the hunt, time passed quickly and 
pleasantly. All that day and the next, they went 
through forests and gulches familiar to Basil for 
many years. Basil was visiting his various traps, 
making ready for winter, and at the same time, 
he and Frangois were keeping a sharp lookout for 
deer and wild turkeys. 

As they proceeded, Basil talked a great deal 
about things other than hunting. Among them 
he spoke gravely of the presidential election due 


104 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


in the early part of the following month. In Sep- 
tember, he had ventured to Farmington to get 
posted, and had brought back with him a lot of 
St. Louis papers. After reading them carefully, it 
was his opinion that serious trouble would ensue 
if Abraham Lincoln were elected. 

In Frangois he found a willing listener. The 
young man^s knowledge of the constitutional form 
of government and leading questions growing out 
of it was accurate, clear, and comprehensive. The 
white-haired priest in the west, who had educated 
him, was a true patriot, and finding in Frangois a 
receptive, eager student, he had performed his 
duty so well as instructor, that the young Master 
of Bonne Terre possessed a creditably fair, general 
education. Besides, he had read much, and was 
able to give Basil the latest news, expressing his 
own views on the stirring events of 1859 and 1860 
to date. 

On the question of slavery, each held his views, 
purely of an abstract character; on the secession 
threat of the Southern States, they agreed that a 
division of territory would be a blow aimed at the 
greatest of modern republics, and, that it should 
not be permitted. 

So while they wended their way through the 
lonely hills, they conversed together, and the 


THE LONELINESS OF THE HILLS 105 


younger man had his convictions strengthened in 
advance of the coming crisis in the affairs of the 
American nation. 

In the afternoon of the second day, while work- 
ing their way homeward in a southeasterly direc- 
tion, Frangois shot a deer. It was divided be- 
tween them, each fastening a half over his shoul- 
der. 

Just as the low western sun was casting long 
shadows over the three hills of Bonne Terre, the 
two friends emerged from the forest on the brow 
of a high neighboring ridge from which point they 
could view the whole of Frangois’s lands. They 
paused for a minute and surveyed the landscape, 
then Basil stepped slightly in front of his com- 
panion and said: 

‘Tn parting, Jean, permit me as an older man, 
to tell you of things I have recently pondered 
over. 

“As you know, I am a strange man. I have the 
culture of the Old World, but for reasons of my 
own in which organized society could not possibly 
be interested, I have elected to live in these wilds. 
It serves my purpose and, besides, I live as close 
to nature as God would order. From the point of 
view of achievements, there is nothing or very lit- 
tle in me to emulate, and my advice thereby may 


106 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


be thought the less weighty. But having known 
your father, although I had the misfortune of be- 
ing away from here when he died, I am, neverthe- 
less, the bearer of messages from him to you, given 
me at different times and to be transmitted as 
occasions arise. Now I am going to speak to you 
as if I were your father. 

^^You must come less frequently to the hills as 
a hunter. The day for following the exhilarating 
occupation of the Red Man has passed away. The 
civilization of this mighty republic has already 
spread westward, as you well know, beyond these 
hills to the Pacific. The environs of your beloved 
Bonne Terre are in the hands of a few poor, char- 
acteristic backwoodsmen, and my own retreat 
farther in, are isolated only because the soil is 
lacking, — chills and post-oaks do not compensate 
ambitious men. Jean, you are far too valuable 
a citizen of this great republic to waste your time 
tramping with me and others, killing and trapping 
animals fast disappearing. Turn your attention 
to civilization. Take your stand with the men of 
your country, and discharge your duties as an 
. American citizen in the exercise of his birthright. 

“Only last Wednesday, I came upon two city 
men, encroaching upon my hunting grounds, and 
as I was unobserved, hearing your name, I 


THE LONELINESS OF THE HILLS 107 


crouched low in some convenient cedars and lis- 
tened to them. They believe there is much money 
to be made out of your pocket lead mines, and, 
furthermore, they are coveting your lands. The 
younger of the two said : 

'My name isn’t Dan Douglas, if I don’t get 
the lands. That shiftless orphaned hunter has no 
business with them.” 

Frangois made a gesture as if he would speak. 

"So, my boy,” continued Basil, "turn your face 
from the loneliness of the hills and look sharp to 
your interests, and, at the same time, fill in the 
world the niche God has assigned you to when He 
endowed you with intellectual as well as physical 
powers. 

"Now and then, your old friend Basil will leave 
his hermit’s lodge and go to you, and together we 
shall smoke a pipe to keep fresh and green the 
memory of our comradeship. Till then. Adieu!” 


CHAPTER VII. 


AN OFFER. 

FRANgois had listened respectfully to the pic- 
turesque old Frenchman, but made no comment. 
It seemed that Basil expected no reply. When he 
had said adieu, he turned abruptly and went away 
through an opening in the thicket. 

For some minutes the young man stood still, 
lost in thought, and then wended his way down 
to his cabin. 

It was difficult for Francois to accept advice, 
especially unsought advice. As a boy, he had 
resented “too much telling’' from his father: hence 
his runaway escapade. Basil’s rather abrupt re- 
marks after their close companionship of the last 
two days, left a certain stinging rebuke in their 
wake, which grew in proportion as Frangois pon- 
dered over them. Yet, he could find no fault with 
Basil’s motive, only, what did it matter to the old 
fellow if the Master of Bonne Terre hunted and 
fished aU his life? Did Basil know something of 
his father’s past life? 


AN OFFER 


109 


By the time Jean finished eating a large venison 
steak he had fried himself, Basil’s words were 
burned into his brain by the intense heat of humi- 
liation. He acknowledged that the reproof was 
wounding the estimate he had of his manhood 
rather than his intelligence and sense of justice. 
Therefore, it was a long pipe he smoked in the 
open door that night, with the result that his de- 
cision amounted to a complete acceptance of the 
hermit’s fatherly counsel, and a firm resolve to 
carry it into execution. 

The days that followed found Frangois going 
about among the few pocket miners on the estate, 
inspecting shafts and ore dumps. The miners 
were getting a fair amount of lead, but many min- 
eral holes were abandoned, — the men said deposits 
were too ^^pockety” to warrant extensive opera- 
tions. 

Throughout these excursions over his domain, 
Francois was always meeting with Dan Douglas 
and his father, both of whom seemed to make ex- 
ceedingly free with premises that did not belong 
to them. At first, Frangois inwardly rebelled at 
this encroachment, and recalled the words Dan 
had used referring to him in Basil’s hearing, a feel- 
ing akin to anger lighting and darkening his eyes 
in turn as he watched them suspiciously. But 


110 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


now, as before, he was won over by their polite 
and apparently inoffensive manners. They were 
interesting men, well versed in finance and busi- 
ness of the day, and since they enjoyed coming to 
Blue Hill, Francois began to think he might profit 
by contact with them, and even learn a great deal 
of real value. So gradually he drifted into closer 
touch with them, and finally, casting caution 
aside, he completely disregarded old BasiFs veiled 
warning. Besides Silas Dade vouched for them, 
— the backwoodsman’s doubts arising from Donald 
Douglas’s ^^strange stho-ry” on the night of his 
first appearance in the country, had quite van- 
ished under the genial light of Douglas’s smiles, 
just as Frangois’s had, — and why cling to what 
was probably a fancy? Hadn’t he, Silas, and 
Donald Douglas and his son, spent many an even- 
ing together in the relic room, about the little 
round table laden with a plentiful supply of old 
whiskey, without the slightest shadow on the old 
man’s face to show that Paul Grennard haunted 
him? Perhaps it had been the other way, — Don- 
ald Douglas might have been the benefactor. As 
Silas liked to say: 

‘‘A more substantial and at the same time jolly- 
don’t-care old fellow never grasped one’s hand.” 


AN OFFER 


111 


Therefore, why persist and look upon him as a 
villain? 

So, Jean Frangois was satisfied, and when Dan 
Douglas stopped in at his cabin one day after his 
usual tramp over Bonne Terre, and offered to take 
over the pocket lead mines and finance them on a 
substantial basis, it never occurred to Frangois it 
was not the best thing that could happen to him. 
If money was to be made out of the mines, they 
must be financed, and since he was not in a posi- 
tion to do it, why should he turn away a willing 
offer? There was so much he could do with 
money. In the morning he would go up and talk 
it over with Basil and he would see the wisdom 
of it. On second consideration he decided he would 
not consult the hermit, who, undoubtedly meant 
well but had no business experience. Jean de- 
cided to entertain the offer. 

Dan^s proposal involved no purchase, therefore 
he was not disregarding his father's wishes about 
holding on to the land. The offer comprised min- 
ing leases only, leaving the ownership of the soil 
to Frangois. The Douglases were to pay one 
thousand dollars in gold and five per cent, in 
royalties annually on the gross output; also erect 
suitable mill, furnaces, etc., that the production 
might be large as compared to the irregular pocket 


112 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


mining of a few individuals. A complete line of 
teams would haul the pigs of refined lead to the 
Mississippi for shipment. 

That evening in the relic room at Dade’s Inn, 
Frangois talked it over with the two Douglases, 
and it was warmly championed by Silas, who was 
shrewd enough to see in the outcome of it sub- 
stantial prosperity for his Inn. Frangois was con- 
sequently easily persuaded from the start, and 
practically accepted terms without time for further 
consideration. 

Dade proposed, to Dan Douglas’s evident satis- 
faction, that the contract be drawn up the next 
day. He invited all parties concerned to meet the 
following night in the same place, with ’Squire 
Moore, to sign the papers and pass the money. 
’Squire Moore liked a glass as much as any of 
them. 

Before leaving the merry board an agreement 
was reached. 

Frangois spent the next day in building castles 
with his unexpected prosperity, to the point of 
blinding him to the importance of looking after 
his interests. Meanwhile, the Douglases were 
closeted at Dade’s Inn, busily engaged in drawing 
up an agreement to bind Frangois, hand and foot, 
for twenty-five years. After it was completed to 


AN OFFER 


113 


their liking, Dan Douglas drew up a second docu- 
ment on the same kind of foolscap paper, and over 
that an argument arose between father and son : 

“Now, Pa, you agreed when we came down here 
on this mission that I should manage all the nego- 
tiations. You must give me free play. Hands 
off, I say. Don’t I know what I’m about?” 

“But I didn’t agree that unfair advantage should 
be taken,” said the father looking ill at ease. 
“That,” he began angrily as Dan muttered: “Tut, 
tut,—” 

“Keep your temper. Pa. He’s a soft one, and 
you’re trying to be one, too. If we don’t pick 
him,” Dan interposed suavely, “somebody else 
will. I tell you this is a rich find! — and no one 
suspects it for the moment. As for him, a thous- 
and dollars will make him rich. Think of it! A 
thousand dollars! and you forget he’s to receive 
five per cent.” 

“But, my son, I consider it ill-gotten goods, and 
— you know ill-gotten goods never prosper in my 
hands,” and a look akin to pain came into the elder 
man’s eyes. His anger had been shortlived. 

“Your hands? true enough; but I’m to manage 
this affair. Besides, I deny it’s wrong. We’re 
paying gold for it — sharp bargain, perhaps, noth- 
ing more. If he signs this second paper with his 


114 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


eyes open, whose fault is it? Clean business 
acumen, I call it.” 

“Go slow, Dan.” 

“Slow or fast, it shall be done to-night. Then, 
remember your often-harped prophecy about war. 
If war comes on, then this chap may be picked off. 
In that case, where would we be without title to 
this land?” 

“Well, be sure you do a good job.” 

“Leave it to me. I^m off now to see that old 
jade, Moore; I donT propose for him to give any 
legal advice gratis, understand?” 

Shortly after nightfall, the five men, — Francois, 
the two Douglases, ’Squire Moore, and Silas Dade, 
— assembled in Si’s private room to spend together 
the first hours of the autumn night, and, incident- 
ally, to conclude the most pretentious transaction 
yet conceived in the Ozark foot-hills. 

Frangois^ unsuspecting and eager to consum- 
mate the deal, did not notice the agitated manner 
of old Douglas, nor the cool, calculating expression 
of the son. Dan assured Frangois that everything 
was in readiness, and that as soon as a few social 
remarks were exchanged, the papers would be pro- 
duced to be signed, and the money handed over. 

Of course what Dan meant by “remarks” was 
drinks. A few drinks would help his scheme im- 


AN OFFER 


115 


mensely — the more drinks the better it would suc- 
ceed. Silas had no objections to whiskey, and 
^Squire Moore was fond of it ; the Douglases liked 
it, and Jean Frangois had lately imbibed as freely 
as the others. Accordingly there appeared to Dan 
to be a very fair chance — with the aid of the 
^'strong stuff.” 

Silas unwittingly fell in with Dan^s views of 
having a rousing time of it, and an extra ten-dollar 
gold piece placed in the old backwoodsman’s palm 
provided the oldest and best brand. 

The dissipation was begun with good stories, in- 
terestingly told by Dan, with two drinks around 
in the telling, and a third as they were still laugh- 
ing and pointing out new phases of amusing fea- 
tures; then the shrewd manipulator took advan- 
tage of the general good feeling to read aloud a 
very fair lease, which he asserted was the docu- 
ment to bind the proposed transaction. 

Silas Dade exclaimed: ^That’s it, boys; I haint 
much of a business feller, but with half sense, I 
could fall in with that there paper!” 

‘^My legal ’sperience on the bench,” said ’Squire 
Moore, with a slight inclination towards hiccoughs, 
''concludes me to assert that I’m ’bleeged to concur 
with the gentleman’s views. It’s legal an’ bind- 
in^ — this time a decided hiccough halted him. 


116 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


bindin’ onder an^ by virtue of the laws of the 
State of Mozoory/' 

This burst of approval on the part of the older 
men, — one of them a justice of the peace, — im- 
pressed Francois, and he said: 

^Tt suits me also. IT sign it.'^ 

But Dan Douglas was not quite ready for sign- 
ing. Another drink or two would be desirable 
first. He hastily refilled the glasses and proposed 
a toast to the new mines of Bonne Terre. It was 
uproariously received, and the bottom of all 
glasses turned up to the ceiling. 

^^Dan an^ weTns expect to hear from you, Jean 
Frangois,” said Dade. 

Frangois mumbled out some sort of toast to the 
new enterprise while Dan handled the demijohn 
again. There were shouts and stamping of feet 
as before, then all glasses were emptied. 

Quite suddenly, Dan Douglas realized that his 
own head was spinning, and not the room as he 
had thought for the space of a second or two. He 
observed that the three old men were fast giving 
in to the influence of liquor. In fact, 'Squire 
Moore was already half asleep. Frangois eyes 
shone like balls of fire, but he sat upright. Old 
man Douglas was singing an old-time song. Dade 
stared straight before him. 


AN OFFER 


117 


With a supreme effort Dan roused Moore, in- 
forming him that it was time for the paper to be 
signed. He then staggered to the mantel for the 
ink bottle and the quill, almost dropping both in 
his attempt to transfer them to the table. He 
finally accomplished the difficult feat, but created 
a laugh by doing so, which somewhat enlivened 
everybody, — each one making a determined effort 
to appear all right. 

Once seated at the table, Dan fumbled in his 
pockets for the papers — for two documents had 
been prepared and only one read. Francois no- 
ticed the second paper and asked : 

'What's that one for?" 

Dan replied blandly: "Oh, just a copy, so we 
can each have one." 

"That's right," Moore managed to blubber out 
with great effort. 

Frangois reached for the pen and signed the 
paper Dan Douglas had read. Then the second 
was pushed forward, a corner of it being held by 
Dan, and Frangois signed that also. Quickly the 
younger Douglas took the paper from Frangois's 
hand, told him to put the first one into his pocket, 
and then shoved the second into Moore's hand, 
telling him to acknowledge it. 

Moore, never forgetting his habit on the bench. 


118 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


quietly drew out his glasses from their case, wiped 
them with his bandanna handkerchief, adjusted 
them once, then readjusted them, and slowly pro- 
ceeded to spell out the document. 

This exasperated Dan. Intoxicated though he 
was, he knew what he wanted, and swore at the 
old Justice so vociferously about the slowness of 
the law, that he succeeded in getting the official 
acknowledgement attached without further spell- 
ing out. However, Moore compelled Frangois to 
hold up his right hand while he administered the 
usual oath of witnesses two or three times, until 
Dade roused himself sufficiently to suggest that it 
was unnecessary to swear a man in more than 
three times to any '^durned thing.” 

Thus accomplishing the trick, Douglas brought 
out a money sack and poured fifty twenty-dollar 
gold pieces on the table. Frangois counted the 
coins very carefully, and put the lot into his buck- 
skin pouch. 

Dan turned to look at his father, but the old 
man was asleep with his chin on his chest. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


NEW LIFE. 

Next morning when Frangois awoke, the sun 
was streaming in through the window. His head 
ached severely and it took him several minutes to 
recall what had happened. 

With the tardy return of memory, events of the 
evening before quickly asserted themselves, and 
he thought of his gold. One bound brought him 
to his trousers that were sprawling on the floor. 
Yes, the money was safe. Now, where was the 
paper? Considerable nervous searching brought 
that to light also, and he felt more at ease. 

The first thing a man says under such circum- 
stances is usually the result of a brilliant stroke of 
brain activity, — the trouble is so few remember 
what they have said. Frangois's first words were 
commonplace, perhaps that is why he never forgot 
them. Nevertheless they exerted some influence 
on his future conduct in the matter of drinking 
to excess. 

^^Now,” said he, ^^they Ve got what they wanted, 

1*9 


120 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


so I suppose 1^11 be left alone. And as for Dade^s 
whiskey, I Ve had enough of it ; and 1^11 leave that 
alone.” 

It was several days before he saw Silas. When 
he did see the old backwoodsman, Silas called to 
mind the ^‘signin’ ”, and related how all three of 
the ^^old fellers”, himself included, had spent the 
rest of the night asleep on the floor of the relic 
room. Also, he imparted the information that the 
two Douglases had returned to St. Louis, after 
going to Farmington, and that in a short time 
work would be begun on the mines. 

The thought occurred to Jean: ^They did not 
think it necessary to consult me.” A feeling of 
being an outsider took possession of him and gave 
him an uncomfortable sensation. All the while 
Silas was giving the news of the day: 

He ^^reckoned” there would be much excitement 
next Tuesday at the election; was Frangois going 
early? He flowed everybody would. There was 
bound to be trouble if Abe Lincoln was elected, 
and he spoke on and on until Frangois heard quite 
enough to last him until Tuesday came. 

In due course Abraham Lincoln was elected, but 
beyond a good deal of talk among some of the 
older members of the community, things moved 
on as usual. Deliberations of commissions and 


NEW LIFE 


121 


peace congresses, as reported in the newspapers, 
did not enthuse the inhabitants of the quiet nook 
in the hills, principally because so few of the 
scattered residents read the papers. There were 
no slaves among the community, but, as it was 
strongly democratic, its sympathies were with the 
Southern States, and the conclusion reached by 
the great majority was that if those states wished 
to secede from the Union, they were quite within 
their rights. In fact, at the time, there were in 
the North a considerable number, led by President 
Buchanan, who held a similar view, disagreeing 
with the policy of Andrew Jackson, established 
some thirty years before, that the Union should be 
maintained at any cost. 

Frangois was one of the interested readers, but 
he kept his own counsel. He watched the omin- 
ous cloud gathering before the inauguration of 
Lincoln, realizing that the Federal government’s 
stout refusal to recognize the entity of the Con- 
federate States of America would ultimately em- 
broil the country in civil war. 

Business activity on the Bonne Terre tract quite 
overshadowed all else. The Douglases lost no time 
in prosecuting advantages gained by the mining 
transaction. Donald Douglas, in whose name his 
son had secured the rights, possessed independent 


122 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


means. He surrounded himself with other wealthy 
men, from St. Louis, five of whom accompanied 
the Douglases to Bonne Terre and began work 
while looking to a permanent establishment of the 
mines. 

This brought new life to Bonne Terre. Tem- 
porary homes were constructed for the incoming 
families, thus forming a nucleus for a village which 
took the name old Paul Frangois had given his 
estate, — Bonne Terre. Forty or fifty carpenters, 
machinists, and laborers were put to work by the 
mining company, and backwoodsmen and farmers 
were invited to take up short leases on the com- 
pany’s holdings, so as to supply ore for the furnace 
which was fast nearing completion. 

Silas Dade circulated a petition, and applied to 
the United States Postal Department for permis- 
sion to remove the post ofiice from his place to the 
company’s lands. It was granted. Dade erected 
a neat store building, and opened up with a fair 
stock to accommodate the growing settlement, 
thus relegating Dade’s Inn to the category of a 
plain farmhouse, and thereby adding to the popu- 
larity of the new town. In due course, other 
modest enterprises were started, and in a few 
months considerable life had sprung up on the 
three hills. 


NEW LIFE 


123 


Frangois entered fully into the development. 
The feeling that he was not to have any share in 
it was forgotten. He was appointed to superin- 
tend the independent miners, and received and 
paid for their ore at the central depot established 
by the mining company. 

The development of the mines necessarily at- 
tracted to Bonne Terre people of an entirely dif- 
ferent class. The St. Louis men brought down 
their wives and daughters, and while these and 
their friends were few in number, the tone of the 
place was raised somewhat above that of the sur- 
roundings. The Dade boys felt quite out of their 
sphere. The simple girls of the neighborhood did 
not shine as they once had, but harmony prevailed 
nevertheless, and during the winter several dances 
were held which tended to cement a certain 
amount of good feeling between the old-timers and 
the new-comers. Occasionally, strangers were to 
be seen in the single primitive street. Even old 
Basil found it interesting and worth his while to 
come there once in a while to read the news- 
papers. 

Frangois became popular with the miners, and 
soon got in with the city families. He was in- 
vited to their homes, and found himself moving 
comfortably in the small circle of the ^‘better so- 


124 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


ciety’’ fast gaining a foothold in the mining town, 
if the term of mining town could be applied to the 
cluster of rather crude buildings that dotted Blue 
Hill. 

The manager of the Bonne Terre Mining Com- 
pany was Adolf Birsch. Donald Douglas was pres- 
ident, and Dan Douglas held the positions of sec- 
retary and treasurer. 

Adolf Birsch, although a smaller stockholder 
than the Douglases, dominated the company by 
reason of his personality and business capacity as 
a mining man. He had a beautiful daughter. 
Flora, who, very early in their acquaintanceship 
took a great liking to the big, athletic Jean Fran- 
gois. 

Mr. Birsch rather encouraged his daughter, but 
Frangois visited the Birsch home without appar- 
ently becoming aware of possible complications 
arising therefrom. He enjoyed Flora’s company 
and often walked out with her on the hills. 

Others noticed the one-sided attachment, and 
it gave rise to some neighborhood talk that went 
the rounds. The quaint old dames and their 
daughters lowed” it was strange that the erst- 
while Master of Bonne Terre, one of their boys, 
should be ^laken in” by one of the city ^^gals”. 
They “ lowed” again, however, that no city ^‘gal” 


NEW LIFE 


126 


need look down upon Frangois. “He was plenty 
good ^nough for any of them, no matter where they 
hailed from.’^ So with all due allowance for un- 
avoidable gossip and criticism, the home folk were 
really proud of a prospective alliance between the 
hero of the backwoodsmen and a daughter of the 
“upper ten/’ 

Thus with uninterrupted prosperity, the work 
went oniand the population grew, unmindful of 
the approach of a national calamity. For imme- 
diately after President Lincoln’s inauguration, af- 
fairs began to take a most threatening aspect. The 
Confederacy had elected Jefferson Davis to her 
presidency, and two governments divided the ter- 
ritory of the United States. 

One day news came that the bombardment of 
Fort Sumter had begun on the afternoon of April 
12th, — at 4:30. An excited crowd gathered in 
front of Dade’s General Store, and before it dis- 
persed, a fight had taken place between Simpson 
Poston, a bright, high-spirited Southerner from 
out Shake Rag way, and Joe Bardsdell, an avowed 
Union man. Poston got the best of Bardsdell, but 
received a bad fingernail scratch on the side of his 
nose. 

It was the first blood drawn in that section of 
the state as a result of political differences, but it 


126 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


lit up the conflagration of ill feeling, and, insigni- 
ficant though it was, it marked the quick drifting 
of Bonne Terre into the maelstrom of the country’s 
restless waters. 


CHAPTER IX. 


HIS country's call. 

War with all that it means burst upon the re- 
public. Many took it lightly of course, and said 
it would be over in sixty days. President Lin- 
coln's advisers held to this view and asked for a 
levy of 75,000 men to serve for three months. Then 
came the battle of Bull Run, a signal defeat for 
the Federal forces. It was then discovered that 
the Civil War had only really begun, and that the 
country must face the most terrible struggle 
known till then in history, — brothers fighting 
brothers, sons fighting fathers. 

Citizens throughout the land quickly took sides. 
Feeling soon reached white heat, and demonstra- 
tions of patriotism served as an outlet for bursts 
of enthusiasm. 

After bitter contests in their legislatures, Ken- 
tucky and Missouri remained neutral. These dis- 
cussions embroiled factions against each other, so 
that fierce party feuds sprang into existence. Men 
who held for the South without going to the front 


1J7 


128 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


were called '^Southern Sympathizers/' Squads of 
armed men, and in many cases, soldiers, raided op- 
posite adherents, taking them prisoners to keep 
them from joining their respective armies. These 
irregular proceedings forced many to seek safety 
by volunteering for active service. 

Bonne Terre yet in her swaddling clothes, was 
strongly Confederate, and furnished many recruits 
for Camp Jackson, to aid in securing the secession 
of Missouri. Frangois and the Bardsdells were 
the only Federals, or Yankees, in the entire com- 
munity. The Bardsdells all joined the Northern 
Army but Frangois kept out for a while. When 
the Federals concentrated near Jefferson City and 
broke up Camp Jackson, thereby saving Missouri 
to the Union, the Confederate element throughout 
the state became exasperated. This made it nec- 
essary for the avowed Union men to join the 
army — especially in the communities where they 
were in the minority. Francois's friends now eyed 
him askance. The old feelings of grievance were 
revived — it was clear that he was not one of them. 

When the hour of stress came he decided to act 
without further delay. Again he sought Basil, 
and the hermit urged him to immediate action. 

Francois had been aware for some time past 
that there was a plot afoot to capture him, but he 


HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 


129 


determined to give his enemies the slip. They 
would probably lie in wait for him on his way 
back from Crag Lookout whither he had gone to 
speak with the old Frenchman, so he took a dif- 
ferent route from the one he had been accustomed 
to follow. 

The plotters, however, were in no way disap- 
pointed for they had been advised to take Fran- 
cois by surprise, at night, in order to avoid a pos- 
sible interference from some of the miners with 
whom he was as popular as ever. As secret as 
they thought their designs, Flora Birsch got wind 
of them, and womanlike, fearing that her friend 
might get wounded in the fray — for he certainly 
would offer resistance to his captors — she resolved 
to warn him at the risk of her own life, if neces- 
sary. 

Having quite made up her mind to circumvent 
the raiders. Flora started out in the direction of 
Blue Hill, trying hard to appear unconcerned when 
accosted by any of the natives, especially old Dade 
who had a long chat with her — and the conversa- 
tion had hinged on Frangois. 

She knew that he was away. Where? she did 
not know. Silas had last seen him wending his 
way toward the ridge. All she could do was to 
watch patiently the trail that led to his cabin, — 


130 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


she accordingly spent the greater part of the day 
concealed in the thickets that bordered the path 
along which he must surely pass. Her long wait 
was finally rewarded : as FranQois, on the alert for 
anything out of the ordinary, was observing how 
the underbrush seemed to be rustling strangely, 
Flora burst out of her hiding place and told him 
breathlessly what would likely happen that night. 
They walked together as far as the cabin door, 
Frangois thinking all the while of some means of 
escape. Suddenly, his glance rested on the bundle 
that was bulging out from the coat thrown care- 
lessly across his shoulders in an attempt to conceal 
it. Then his eyes flashed. 

^That will do,” he cried, ^T have it!” 

Flora looked puzzled. Her blue eyes scanned 
her companion's face but he did not volunteer 
further information. He made a single request: 

^There is only one way out of it, and you can 
help me. Spread the report that you saw me re- 
turn to the cabin with a young man.” 

At once the boldness of Frangois's project and 
its probable success struck the girl with amaze- 
ment and her eyes lighted up, but the next instant 
although she nodded “yes”, her quivering lips re- 
fused to frame a reply. She had thought only of 
saving him, and had not considered what that 


HIS COUNTRY’S CALL 


131 


entailed: his going away — to join the Union forces 
— perhaps never to return. 

Frangois’s next words confirmed her fears: 

'^You must not stop here any longer. Good-bye, 
Miss Flora. I can not say whether we shall ever 
meet again, but God surely watch over you and 
yours.” He held out his hand, but seeing that 
she had not taken any notice of his gesture — she 
was looking straight ahead, a strained expression 
dilating her eyes — he removed his cap and said 
feelingly : 

“I must hurry, pardon me. Good-bye and thank 
you.” 

Frangois had already stepped into the cabin and 
begun his housekeeping preparations, — wishing to 
leave everything in order — that Flora still stood 
at the entrance — staring at the consequences of 
her act. Then with a quick glance about for fear 
some one might be spying, she turned and walked 
hastily away. She had work to do. 

The last minutes of dusk found her at the re- 
motest house of the village, talking pleasantly to 
its inmates, — remarking in a most casual tone that 
Jean Frangois had come home quite late in the af- 
ternoon with a strange young man, — and just 
about his size and build. In fact she had seen 
both enter the cabin. 


132 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


As Frangois peered cautiously through his win- 
dow, not long after Flora was gone, he observed 
two men take up positions to watch his abode — 
that he might not escape. Jean smiled as he took 
note of their stature, they were both picked men. 
A moment later a third stalwart fellow came along 
and spoke to the guards. They shifted their posi- 
tions but all three remained on duty. 

There was nothing for Frangois to do but wait. 
Although it was dark now, the men would not, ac- 
cording to Flora’s warning, close in on him till 
late, so he had ample time to perfect his plan. He 
was prepared. Basil had given him a Confederate 
uniform that the good man had got hold of in an- 
ticipation of just such an emergency, — indeed the 
old trapper was farsighted. 

It was a matter of a few minutes for Frangois 
to don the gray and shave off his beard. A youth 
with cleanly-shaven face and all the accouter- 
ments of a Confederate soldier walked quietly up 
and down the little kitchen, stopping occasionally 
at the windows to watch the movements of the 
spies. That Flora had notified the villagers he 
had returned accompanied by someone, he never 
doubted for one instant. The young girl’s man- 
ner had been too earnest for him not to trust im- 
plicitly to her word — though unspoken he knew 


HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 


133 


it had been recorded in a heart that was loyal to 
a fault. Well, since the men outside believed he 
had a visitor, they probably intended to wait until 
he was alone. This last reflection gave the clue 
that he was waiting for unconsciously. 

Having closed up all the blinds as soon as he 
came in, he was perfectly safe in carrying on a con- 
versation in two voices, making enough noise at 
the same time to attract some attention from the 
outsiders. At about ten o’clock, armed to the 
teeth, he opened the door, — still gaily talking in 
the stranger’s tones, — and held it ajar, talking 
back into the cabin where a bright light was burn- 
ing: 

^^Jean, old fellow, I’m sorry I can’t persuade 
you to come along with me and join the Rebs. 
You may change your mind after a while. Any- 
way, I’m going down and I’ll send some of the 
boys over to see if they can convince you. You’ve 
got plenty of friends about Bonne Terre, and if 
you’d only throw your lot in with them, everyone 
would feel all the better for it, especially Dade and 
his boys. Perhaps I’ll see Si in the morning.” 

Here there was a pause, and Frangois’s reply 
came in low mumbled tones of his natural voice. 

^That’s all right, old chap, I don’t think any the 
less of you for holding on to your convictions. 


134 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

Remember that whatever you decide we'll always 
be friends. Only it is such a pity that friends 
should fight and kill each other. So, goodnight 
and good-bye. Many thanks for your hospitality. 
I must be going now — no, no — don't try to keep 
me overnight. I'm after catching up with some 
of our boys who’ve gone on ahead. I'll have to 
do some hurrying for they are lively." 

The door was shut with a bang to drown any- 
thing that 'Trangois" might answer from the in- 
terior. 

Those concealed in ambush were completely 
thrown off guard, and the young Confederate 
soldier passed unchallenged for fear that in stop- 
ping him they might arouse the one they were 
going to capture. In a few minutes, as soon as 
the light was put out they might advance. 

Instead of going off through the village, as soon 
as Frangois knew himself to be out of sight, he 
took a by-path over Elvin's Hill, and was soon 
safe in the dense forest, favored by a darkness too 
black to penetrate. His perfect knowledge of the 
woods served him and in a few hours he reached 
Big River, changed his uniform for citizen's 
clothes which he had managed to carry concealed 
under the gray, and hurried off in the direction of 
Ste. Genevieve. 


HIS COUNTRY’S CALL 


135 


Some time, near one o’clock, the posse, weary- 
ing of waiting for Frangois to go to bed, closed in 
on the cabin and knocked at the door. Repeated 
knocks and commands failed to bring any re- 
sponse, so one of the men peeped cautiously 
through the blinds that Frangois had purposely 
imfastened before leaving, and found to his amaze- 
ment that the light was burning with no one in 
the room. It did not take them long to dis- 
cover that they had been duped. Still, they 
could hardly bring themselves to believe that the 
smooth-faced chap they had allowed to pass un- 
molested and the owner of the cabin were identi- 
cal. Exasperated, furious at having been baffled, 
they despoiled the cabin and set fire to it. Then 
they went away and notified their friends that 
Frangois was a Unionist spy, that they had seen 
him disguised as a Confederate, and he must be 
caught before he reached the Federal lines. The 
next day, parties set off in every direction to 
scour the country. 

Flora Birsch was besides herself with despair. 
Why had she interfered? He might have been 
held captive for a while but now he was sure to 
be overtaken and court-martialed and — She fin- 
ally refused to face the last possibility. Her 


136 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


strong nature asserted itself and she managed not 
to betray any undue anxiety. 

But Frangois was too clever a woodsman to be 
overtaken. No one knew the country better than 
he, and with a start of several hours on his pur- 
suers, after crossing Big River and Terre Blue, 
he was never in danger of being caught. 

By ten thirty the next night, he entered Ste. Ge- 
nevieve and went immediately to the river wharf. 
A steamboat was just preparing to draw in her 
gang plank. He went aboard and was soon off 
down stream to join the army at any point where 
he might find the opportunity. 

The spirit of adventure drove Frangois from 
Missouri lest he be shelved with quiet service in 
the Home Guards. He fully realized that in 
espousing the cause of the Union, he estranged 
himself from the new-born village on Blue Hill, 
with its associations, and all his friends. It 
would have been easier to drift along with those 
he had known in childhood, but he was both 
strong and brave, and he did not hesitate to make 
sacrifices that the Great Republic, in which he 
believed and which he loved passionately, should 
not fall a prey to internal dissensions. For Fran- 
gois, there was no North and South, there was one 
country and he held out for the side that wanted 


HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 


137 


unity. With that high ideal held sacred in his 
heart, he wished to be in the thick of the fight. 

He reasoned correctly that the South would be 
the battle ground, and perhaps Louisville was 
rather fresh in his memory, but anyway as the 
big steamboat headed down channel, her brass 
band playing “Dixie,"’ it occurred to him sud- 
denly to go to Louisville to enlist. 

In two days he arrived and was duly enrolled 
in the Federal Army. Hard training and man- 
oeuvers soon put his regiment in shape for active 
service. 

Not long after that, his division was pushed out 
into the field, being rushed to the battle of Fort 
Donaldson for its first fighting. 

Following that successful engagement, other 
scenes of severe conflict came on rapidly amid 
which Frangois learned to be an experienced 
soldier, unflinching and daring. 


CHAPTER X. 


THERESA. 

During these exciting events, time sped on 
rapidly, recording many victories to each of the 
belligerents. By the beginning of the second 
year, Frangois had seen service over a vast area 
and wound up by being taken prisoner, spending 
many weary days in Libby Prison and wonder- 
ing all the while what was happening on the 
outside and at his beloved Bonne Terre. 

Back at Frangois’s home in Missouri, the war 
had stayed the development of the mines, al- 
though Douglas, with ample means at his dis- 
posal managed to hold things as they were and 
keep a few men at work. Bonne Terre being out 
of reach of activities enjoyed more or less exemp- 
tion from depredations of guerrilla bands, in the 
early part of the troubles, but the women folk of 
those who had gone to war had to be cared for, 
and provided for, so Douglas really worked hard 
to do what he could for them and his own group, 
by keeping the mines going. His son Dan had 


138 


THERESA 


139 


joined Pricers army a few days before Frangois’s 
departure. He was then alone to carry a heavy 
load of responsibilities. 

Towards the first of 1862, things almost came 
to a standstill in the village. The outlook was 
exceedingly gloomy and everybody leaned more 
and more on old man Douglas. He lived with 
Silas Dade whose family had been reduced to 
himself, Mrs. Dade, the daughters, and the 
hounds. 

About this time there appeared one day in the 
village a visitor whose advent was destined to 
add some excitement to the quiet, dull life of the 
place. Dade was alone in his store when a lady, 
somewhat elderly but dressed in the height of 
fashion, walked in and after staring at him for a 
minute or so addressed him familiarly. 

Silas looked up from a rough piece of brown 
paper on which he had been adding some figures, 
and in his astonishment nearly jammed the pencil 
in his ear instead of back of it, in the meantime 
gazing at her open-mouthed, fearing to trust him- 
self to speak. 

*^DonT you know me?'’ she asked, taking a seat 
next to the large wood stove in the center of the 
room, her wide skirt of black taffeta rustling as 
she shook the dust from the many ruffles. She 


140 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

turned her head about and looked at him smil- 
ingly from beneath her black poke bonnet lined 
with lace and flowers, — poppies. 

Silas came out from behind the counter and 
stood on the other side of the big round stove. His 
lips were now firmly compressed over his tooth- 
less gums and his long straggling beard seemed 
to be charged with some of the electricity that 
sent flashes out of his greenish gray eyes, narrowed 
to a mere slit. 

“Do I know you?” he hissed. 

The woman was in no way frightened nor 
abashed. 

“Yes,” she replied, looking at him straight in 
the eyes. 

Dade gradually resumed his natural expression. 
Only a shade of suspicion remained. 

“Of course, I know you, but I thought you'd 
cashed in long ago.” 

“No indeed, and as you see I'm very much 
alive. You wonder what I'm doing here, and I 
don't mind telling you. I've followed my hus- 
band to this God-forsaken corner of the earth, 
that I had hoped never to see again. 

“Your husband?” 

“Yes, my husband, Donald Douglas Esquire.” 


THERESA 


141 


“What!^^ exclaimed Dade and at the same time 
he felt the floor move from under his feet. 

^'Don't be alarmed, my good Mr. Dade — I don’t 
mean to do him any harm or I might have at- 
tempted it long ago — it is not a recent union 
either. I married Donald Douglas twenty-eight 
years ago, and that handsome young man that 
goes about with him is my son Daniel.” 

^‘You don’t tell me so,” he answered politely 
while a slight hectic-like flush settled on his high- 
boned hollow cheeks, — in a heroic effort to stifle 
the promptings of the memories of a certain night 
when he had listened to Douglas’s recital of do- 
mestic unhappiness. 

'*Yes, I do tell you,” and Theresa raised her 
head proudly. ‘T am Mrs. Donald Douglas and 
not what you once thought — the woman Theresa. 
Where is Mr. Douglas?” 

‘‘Over to the mines.” 

“And Dan, I believe, if I’ve been correctly in- 
formed, is in the army. Price’s army they told 
me in St. Louis.” 

“Yes, that’s it, and everybody else’s sons have 
gone along, too, to Price’s army or some other’s.” 

“Yes, yes, by the way — ” and for the first time 
since she had addressed the old backwoodsman 
she faltered. 


142 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


^^Yes, yes, by the way,’^ repeated Silas encour- 
agingly, more than half divining her thought. 
His curiosity was aroused. 

“Tell me, Dade, is Paul still alive?'' 

“Nope, he's dead. Yes, dead — his wife Helen, 
also. Both died the same day — both buried to- 
gether the same day Jean come home." 

“Jean was their boy, I believe, tell me about 
him." 

“He's joined the Yankees — ^haven't heard from 
him nigh to two years." 

From the time Theresa had announced her 
relationship to Donald Douglas, Dade was on the 
alert — the fact is that he realized something un- 
usual was happening the very minute she had 
entered his store, but, at the time he first recog- 
nized her he thought principally of her connec- 
tion with Paul and not at all of Douglas. The 
situation was complicated and Dade's abstraction 
after answering her last question made it quite 
evident that he was considering matters most 
carefully before committing himself any further. 

“Now, look here, Mr. Dade," broke in the 
visitor, “I know what you are thinking of — ^but 
put it out of your mind for the present. You 
must not mention that I ever knew Paul. You 
will imderstand why when I tell you my story." 


THERESA 


143 


She leaned over confidingly and patted Dade on 
the sleeve. 

“You shall know the whole sad story, for — I 
need your help.’^ At this point the lady fumbled 
in her hand bag and brought out a dainty hand- 
kerchief. She pressed it to her eyes, then with a 
faint sigh she returned it to the reticule. “To- 
morrow, IT tell you the part Paul played in my 
life. Now the most important thing to consider 
is what you can do to effect a reconciliation with 
my husband. He drove me away from him un- 
justly, years ago. For the sake of a mother’s 
love — if for no other reason — for I do love my 
son — really, Mr. Dade, you must help me.” 

“It’s a big order. There — sa, I mean Mrs. 
Douglas.” 

“So it is, but I told you why I’ve come, didn’t 
I?” 

“I haint sayin’ but that you have, but this here 
patchin’ up business haint much in my line — I 
haint hankerin’ pertic’larly ’bout mixin’ in der- 
mestic troubles. ’Specially when one of the par- 
ties concerned is my best frien’ — that’s what Mr. 
Douglas is!” 

“That’s why you can help me — why I need 
you. You’re just the man I need, can’t you see 
it?” and Theresa looked at him pleadingly. The 


144 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


woman seemed very much in earnest despite her 
ultramundane appearance, not very much in keep- 
ing with the years whose stamp was plainly 
visible on her one-time prettiness, — leaving count- 
less lines on every feature — especially about the 
mouth. 

Dade was still doubtful. He looked at the 
woman scrutinizingly but could not make her out. 
Being inclined to excuse others, he was just saying 
to himself after a suspicious sizing up of her 
finery: ^'Must take heaps of money to buy such 
clothes, but perhaps they’re cheaper in the city.” 

His glance did not escape Mrs. Douglas. 

^^You must know, Mr. Dade, that I have all the 
money I require, so that I’m not an object of 
charity. When Mr. Douglas put me out of his 
life, he provided for me in trust. I can pay my 
own way.” 

“Well, I’ll do what I can, though it haint clear 
to me ’zactly how.” Then an idea occurred to 
him, “Perhaps you’d better keep away till I git 
it figured out. I can’t ask you here ’cause Mr. 
Douglas lives with me an’ my old woman.” 

“Is there a place where I can board?” 

“I’ll git you to the best place I can — that might 
help matters somewhat,” suggested Dade. “How- 
amsoiver, let me see. Mrs. Birsch might take you 


THERESA 


145 

in, but, if it’s just the same, you’d better take 
another name.” 

‘^No, I refuse to do that. I’ve made up my 
mind to come here and win back my husband. I 
shall do so under my own lawful name.” 

“I like your pluck, hanged if I don’t!” ex- 
claimed Dade, ^^but begging your pardon, you for- 
get your visit here more’n twelve years ago, others 
remember it.” 

''Only the better reason for using my name. 
Besides, I was supposed to have met my death at 
the time and was known as Theresa. No one but 
you would know me now.” After a minute’s 
silence she asked: "Then you think, perhaps, I 
can get to live with this Mrs. Birsch? She is a 
stranger here, is she not?” 

"I suppose you’ve dum nigh got me, Mrs. 
Douglas, with all those reasons. Yes, I’ll see 
what I can do.” 

"Now, Mr. Dade, I must speak to you plainly. 
I see that you think I’ve been on the dark side 
of life, but you are mistaken. There is nothing 
in my past positively improper. I did a great 
many things to spite and aggravate my husband 
to pay him back for the wrong he did me; how- 
ever, you have no right to judge my conduct. 
Now I know better, I have changed and I am 


146 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


going to change more and more. As you see I^m 
an old woman; in my younger days, in foolish 
ignorance of the consequences, I once turned to 
Paul and- — you know the result. I need you for 
a champion, you can do what others canT and 
you must.” 

Dade had already committed himself to the 
task, and looked upon this peroration as the fore- 
runner of something further — a sort of second 
installment. He fidgeted a little, then pulled 
nervously at his long, gray whiskers. Could he 
really trust this woman, or was she drawing him 
into her meshes? It was but natural that she 
should declare her innocence. 

Theresa continued: ‘Terhaps it is a little cow- 
ardly or ungenerous to wait until you are one 
among the ‘frayed ends’ and then try to become 
the heroine in a romantic reconciliation.” 

Dade was not exactly a “lady’s man” but he 
possessed a certain amount of inborn chivalry, 
“Frayed ends!” he exclaimed “I don’t see you’re 
powerful frayed yet. I’d say if anyone asked me, 
that you’re a purty smart looker.” He cocked his 
head to one side and continued. “’Specially in 
them city clothes.” 

“That’s all right,” Theresa was unwilling to 


THERESA 


147 


take offense, ‘^but I^m not what I once was, not 
even twelve years ago/’ 

Dade looked slightly embarrassed. She con- 
tinued: 

^T wasn’t bidding for compliments — but I 
know you meant well.” 

‘Tor’ yes,” quickly interposed Silas in an earn- 
est endeavor to excuse himself, ‘T haint nothin’ 
for flirtin’ nowadays. Ladies mustn’t expect it 
from me, I’m glad you don’t.” 

Theresa laughed. 

“Now,” said she, “run along, Mr. Dade, and see 
Mrs. Birsch. You don’t need to relate any of my 
history, do you understand?” 

The backwoodsman reached for his slouched 
hat and hurried off, but not without many mis- 
givings that he might be setting his foot into a 
bad muddle. 

On the way he philosophized nearly in the 
words of a modern humorous writer: 

“Don’t ever believe you know what a woman’s 
going to do — no, not till she’s done it, an’ then 
you don’t know neither.” 

In a few minutes he returned to the store and 
reported that after much persuading, Mrs. Birsch 
had consented to accommodate Mrs. Douglas. 

The visitor arose and thanked Dade. She then 


148 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


went out to the man who waited a short distance 
away in a democrat-wagon, and following Silases 
directions, drove off to her future home. 

Mr. Birsch was away at the time, or there might 
have been some question about taking in a paying 
guest. But Mrs. Birsch and Flora had reasoned 
that with war times and so little coming in from 
the mines, a boarder would not be amiss. 

Mother and daughter hurriedly put a spare 
room in order, and gave orders to Malinda to show 
the lady into the parlor pending their prepara- 
tions for her reception. They got through a short 
while after the expected guest's arrival and in- 
structed Obediah, the colored man, to carry in 
the trunk that was still standing on the back of 
the spring-wagon, — a huge leather trunk. 

Their first impressions of Mrs. Douglas were 
not favorable, that is, Mrs. Birsch, if not Flora, 
began to doubt the advisability of launching into 
the boarding-house business with that sort of per- 
son as a guest. Flora relented, on second 
thoughts, and took to the '^lonely lady," succeed- 
ing in convincing her mother that it was positive- 
ly wrong to judge people on short acquaintance, 
and much more so on a first introduction. 

^‘The poor thing," persisted the young girl, 
‘Vhy, she's been driving all day, and is worn- 


THERESA 


149 


out. She’ll look more up to the mark to-mor- 
row.” 

“But that’s just it,” retorted Mrs. Birsch, “I 
don’t think she looks worn-out after her travel- 
ing. She looks just a little too smart.” After a 
doubtful shake of her head she added: “It may 
be aU right, but I don’t like her flashy dress.” 

“Mamma!” cried Flora reproachfully, “you 
know some people have strange notions about 
dress. I rather like her round, pleasant face — 
and her eyes, such pretty black eyes. Besides 
anyone with gray hair like hers can’t be very, very 
bad.” 

“Yes, but it’s done up in such outrageous style! 
Still, we took her in on Mr. Dade’s recommenda- 
tion and that ought to be sufficient, I admit.” 

Mrs. Birsch ’s misgivings were mollified by 
Flora’s pleas, and that evening when the guest 
came down to dinner, looking a little more somber 
and sedate in a neat black polonaise, Mrs. Birsch 
amended her opinions, and joined heartily in talk- 
ing about St. Louis and the old-time families. 

Suddenly, Mrs. Birsch’s face brightened, she 
had been struck by a coincidence in names: 

“There is at the head of our mining company, 
a very excellent gentleman by the name of Donald 


150 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Douglas, also from St. Louis. Is he by any 
chance connected with your family 
^^Yes!” cried the guest, and so decidedly that 
the hostess set back on her plate the morsel of 
food she was in the act of conveying to her mouth. 
Her eyes sought her daughter’s. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE MEDIATORS. 

It was long past midnight before Mrs. Birsch 
dropped off to sleep. She had tossed restlessly 
on her pillow, blaming herself for having per- 
mitted old Silas Dade to persuade her to take this 
boarder. She did not like her, she was now sure 
of it. There was something about the woman’s 
answer to her question regarding Donald Douglas 
that seemed to forecast a tale of some sort. What 
could it be but an evil tale, for had she not under- 
stood from her own husband’s lips that Douglas’s 
wife was dead? After she had resolved for the 
tenth time that she would send “Mrs. Douglas” 
away the very next day, sleep put an end to her 
worries. 

Flora did not look at the seamy side of the 
situation. Besides, she liked mysteries, and was 
interested in Dan Douglas so that what concerned 
his father was worth while fathoming. But there 
could not possibly be any scandal attached to it — 


152 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


both parties were too old, so why was her mother 
nervous about the poor woman? 

The Birsches were not alone in their specula- 
tions. Theresa failed to sleep for hours after she 
went to bed. She had not intended to let out her 
story so soon, and repeatedly said to herself: 
^‘How stupid of me! Oh, how very stupid 1^^ Then 
she would add: 'T fell into the trap. I wonder 
if it was set on purpose? No, I think not. I 
have only myself to blame. I should have parried 
that question until I^d won the esteem of Mrs. 
Birsch. To-morrow, I must either avoid men- 
tioning Donald or say something to correct the 
impression my ^Yes’ made on Flora’s mother. 
The girl seems friendly, I wonder how far I could 
trust her?” She thought out plan after plan to 
avoid the subject, or fix up what she would say 
should her husband’s name be brought up again. 
None of the plans suited her, and in the end she 
acquired a violent headache for her pains. Slum- 
ber had not come to her rescue and the cocks were 
crowing for dawn, that the dread of spending a 
day in tete-a-tete with Mrs. Birsch still stared her 
in the face. 

When breakfast was ready, Theresa did not ap- 
pear. Mrs. Birsch frowned and despatched the 


THE MEDIATORS 


153 


negro cook upstairs to say peremptorily that 
breakfast was being served. 

Malinda, the good soul, and incidentally the 
boss of the Birsch household — she had grown old 
in the family’s service — rolled her eyes and obeyed 
so far as to go up. She returned shortly and said 
as she reached a dish on the table: 

“She haint acomin’ down, Missus — she’s sick, 
so ah’ze gwine to fix her breakfus an’ take it up 
to her.” 

“Set down that dish, Malinda. You’ll do no 
such thing. Go tell that lady that her meals are 
not to be served in bed.” 

“Lor’ Missus, think whut you’ze a doin’. Dat 
lady sho am sick, you jist oughter see de ban’ges 
on her head! ’Fore God, Missus, dat’s the truth 
ah’ze tellin’ you, an’ ez I done tol’ her ah’d take 
up her breakfus — ” 

“Malinda,” Mrs. Birsch spoke severely while 
the culprit seemed to look at her through the 
white of her eyes, “I think I’ve made it clear 
that — ” 

“Let her. Mamma. Malinda wouldn’t say the 
poor woman is ill if it were not so.” 

Malinda grinned thankfully at Flora: 

“Sho, Miss Flora, she am sick, an’ you know ah 
wouldn’t say a falsehood. She ’peahs like — ” 


154 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


^'Never mind discussing her, Malinda. Since 
youVe made up your mind, you and Flora, I 
have nothing more to hear about your patient.” 

Malinda went off into the kitchen muttering 
to herself. She dearly loved a little excitement 
and there was apparently something brewing. 
She had never heard “Missus” take on so about 
serving breakfast to anyone who complained of 
being ill. As a rule she was the first one on the 
spot to investigate — Mahnda shook her head so 
that her gay bandanna had to be readjusted before 
carrying up the tray. When she came down a 
couple of minutes later she had both hands in the 
pockets of her gown, and one was toying a bright 
dollar the lady had given to be divided with 
Obediah for taking up her trunk on the day prev- 
ious. 

In the meantime Mrs. Birsch had told Flora 
that she wished to speak with her privately im- 
mediately after the meal. 

The “private” talk between mother and 
daughter availed nothing. Mrs. Birsch insisted 
that in her mind Mrs. Douglas was associated 
with something questionable, to say the least, 
and possibly a great deal worse than they had any 
idea of. Flora said such ideas were preposterous 
and that the poor “old lady” should not be tor- 


THE MEDIATORS 


155 


merited and made to feel uncomfortable. The 
result of the conference after much debating on 
both sides was that they would “wait and see.’’ 

Mrs. Douglas came down the stairway in time 
to hear all the latter and essential part of the 
discussion about herself. It confirmed the fears 
she had entertained during the night, and while 
it put her on her guard it made her exceedingly 
nervous. Still, she resolved to play a clever 
game, now that she was positive she was sus- 
pected, and if successful, she would win the two 
women to her cause. 

It is admitted by the world at large that women 
can outwit men and that they can always depend 
upon having the last word in an argument, but 
when women are pitted against each other, it is 
scarcely safe to pick out the winner beforehand or 
even predict the result. Antagonism, suspicion, 
intrigue, a sense of superiority, when paired in 
feminine reckonings, may suggest the most amaz- 
ing turns in their actions. Theresa forgot mo- 
mentarily having aroused Mrs. Birsch’s curiosity 
by snapping out the word “yes” so as to inject 
into it the bitter memories of a lifetime. She had 
thought to ignore the spirit in which the com- 
ments just heard had been made, but the dis- 
covery that Flora’s mother was deeply prejudiced 


156 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


by suspicions, on second thought, made her very 
angry. She knew that even a good woman is 
impossible to deal with when her mind is pois- 
oned by the insidious suggestions of a mystery 
that promises revelations detrimental to another. 

Thus handicapped at the outset of her final 
attempt to win back her husband it was with 
difficulty that Mrs. Douglas assumed the most 
winning smile in her power, and advanced to 
greet mother and daughter, saying: 

“A bright, sunny morning — and I’m shamefully 
lazy,” with a sigh that Mrs. Birsch thought was 
intended to recall her illness at breakfast time. 

“// you’re not feehng well, your tardiness is 
excusable,” put in Mrs. Birsch stiffly. 

Mrs. Douglas ignored the implication in the 
“if” and went out in the open air. 

In the natural sequence of thinking and act- 
ing, women do not lay out intricate schemes of 
conduct. These creatures of impulse are victims 
of the power which urges them. A thing is done 
in a moment and over with. Mrs. Birsch planned 
no accusations or even a set conversation with her 
guest with a motive for entrapping her. But this 
is what later happened as the two ladies met face 
to face on the front lawn : 

“Come in, Mrs. Douglas. It’s pleasant to sit 


THE MEDIATORS 


157 


on the side veranda.” Flora’s mother, on the con- 
trary, had firmly resolved to show no resentment 
of her daughter’s charge of stand-offishness. 

‘T should be so pleased,” responded Theresa, 
had a bad head on awakening this morning, 
but the delicious breakfast Malinda brought up 
quite put me right, and I feel better.” 

Malinda’s mistress felt ashamed of her at- 
tempted refusal to have breakfast served up- 
stairs. 

‘T am so glad you feel better. Flora and I 
are always so well that I thought Malinda was 
putting on when she asked to take a tray to your 
room. I opposed it, but Flora pleaded that you 
must be ill, and I consented. Since it helped you, 
I am glad I relented.” 

Flora thought her mother’s frankness unneces- 
sary and that it might offend. She had just 
come on the scene, and with the kindest intention 
in the world she added: 

“Mamma isn’t old enough to understand how 
much little comforts are appreciated by real old 
ladies.” 

Mrs. Birsch looked surprised, and thought she 
should ward off offense. 

“Why, Flora!” she cried laughingly, “Mrs. 


158 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Douglas is not a real old lady. She isnT at all 
feeble and decrepit.’' 

“I don’t mean it that way, Mamma — you know 
I didn’t, and you, too, Mrs. Douglas.” 

^T’m sure you didn’t. Girlie,” put in Mrs. 
Douglas. Then all three laughed. 

*^Just come through this room,” said Flora 
cheerily a few seconds later when their hilarity 
had subsided, 'Ve must all enjoy the sunshine 
of this extraordinary morning, if it is January. 
We often have pleasant weather like yesterday’s 
and to-day’s in this part of the state, in mid- 
winter.” 

They passed on to the glass-enclosed veranda. 
The sun’s warm and spring-like rays flooded the 
place, and Flora, drawing easy chairs toward the 
two ladies settled them comfortably therein with 
a lot of cushions about them. Then she brought 
out a low stool and sat at their feet, her elbows 
propped on her knees and her hands cupped about 
her chin ; she felt happy at having scored a point, 
— ^her mother appeared to be on friendly terms 
with the guest. 

For several minutes they all chatted on about 
commonplace things, taking mental notes of each 
other’s appearance as the bright light exposed their 
good or weak points. Mrs. Douglas could not 


THE MEDIATORS 


159 


help but notice the smoothness of Mrs. Birsch^s 
skin, on which time had left no scar; only her 
matronly figure and hair — silvery gray on her 
temples — ^betrayed her age. She must have been 
a little past fifty. Otherwise, her plump, oval 
face, even teeth, bright hazel eyes, and resolute 
mouth could have been admired as belonging to a 
woman of forty. ^^She has spent a uniformly 
happy life,^’ thought Theresa. Then she took 
stock of the vivacious, mischievous daughter, 
whose warm heart shone in her expressive feat- 
ures, lighted up by deep blue eyes, shaded by 
long, curling black lashes that at that instant 
cast her a sympathetic, almost affectionate look 
that gladdened Theresa, — it seemed to say: 
^^DonT be afraid, and if you need a friend, I can 
be that.’^ Flora had the same kind of flawless 
skin which was her mother’s greatest asset. It 
showed transparent where the sunshine caressed 
it, and no amount of exposure had ever seemed 
to detract from its delicate fairness that blended 
so charmingly with the rich coloring of maiden- 
hood. Her dark brown hair had glints of auburn 
running through it and downy ringlets detached 
themselves from the tightly coiled tresses and 
strayed on her nape and above her straight eye- 
brows of the same dark color. Mrs. Birsch and 


160 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Flora also sized up their guest, and quite uncon- 
sciously, they did so simultaneously. They 
agreed, each to herself, that she had undoubtedly 
been a beauty in her day — a brunette with round, 
betwitching face, and the figure of a goddess,— 
probably her curse, was the added comment of 
the mother, while the daughter tried to picture 
its one-time gracefulness and elegance. She was 
well above sixty, good-looking still, but some 
former undefinable quality of expression seemed 
to have developed into the astute cunning of a 
cat. So manifest was it that both mother and 
daughter wondered at it. Mrs. Douglas's bear- 
ing betrayed nothing of the past, that is nothing 
questionable, the visible rings under the eyes, 
deep crow-foot wrinkles, and a drooped mouth 
told plainly the story of a sad past. Was it of 
evil? Mrs. Birsch was not sure. Flora answered 
to herself: ^‘Surely not." 

Quite easily these impressions were stored 
away, and the conversation turned to St. Louis 
again — the Chouteaux, Bribriants, de Lessups, 
Marchands, and other families. Then the Barr 
family was brought up and discussed; how mar- 
velously they had got on in the world's goods. 
Julius Barr, Mrs. Birsch recalled, had purchased 


THE MEDIATORS 


161 


the wholesale business and the importing house 
of Douglas, Bryant & Company. 

“Did you know him, Mrs. Douglas?^^ asked 
Mrs. Birsch. 

“Yes, very well,^’ was the reply. 

“That Douglas is now our Mr. Douglas,’^ Flora 
volunteered innocently enough. 

“Yes,” was the simple comment. No one 
guessed how difficult that little word was to pro- 
nounce. 

Without premeditation, Mrs. Birsch followed 
up the opening made by Flora's remark: “I be- 
lieve you said last night that Mr. Douglas was 
connected with your family?” 

“Yes,” scarcely audible. 

“Any relation or simply a connection?” 

Theresa colored perceptibly and became con- 
fused. But with an effort she nerved herself to 
speak the truth — it was absolutely necessary to 
do so in order to enlist Mrs. Birsch's and Flora's 
sympathies in her cause. 

“Oh,” said she, “he's my lawful husband.” 

A painful pause ensued, then Flora asked : 

“And Dan?” 

“He's my son.” 

Mrs. Birsch had frowned and a look, half in- 
credulous, had crept into her eyes. For one mo- 


162 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


ment she bridled up and stared straight at her 
guest. 

As Theresa caught the eyes of her hostess fixed 
on hers in doubt, and condemnation, the fast well- 
ing tears in her eyes rolled down her colorless 
cheeks. Mrs. Birsch, in reality, a most charit- 
able person, murmured apologetically: '^Forgive 
me, Mrs. Douglas, I did not mean to be inquisi- 
tive, only — ” 

“It’s all right — I know you did not mean — ^how 
could you know my story. However, it was 
bound to come out, and now that it’s out, it’s just 
as well, — really I meant to tell you, — Mrs. Birsch 
and Miss Flora, — only I thought I’d wait until 
we’d know each other better.” 

“Let’s change the subject, then. Another time 
will do,” suggested the young girl. 

“No, no; please let me explain.” Notwith- 
standing her wanting to do so, Theresa broke 
down and wept bitterly. 

“I think we had better leave her awhile,” put 
in Flora looking at her mother. She had risen 
and was standing back of Mrs. Douglas’s chair. 

Mrs. Birsch had not moved. She made a sign 
to Flora to remain when the latter spoke of going. 

Theresa, more composed, continued: “I need 
your help — our chat this morning makes me feel 


THE MEDIATORS 


163 

that I can, perhaps, ask you to assist me in seek- 
ing redress for my wrongs.’^ 

Flora, instead of resuming her seat, placed a 
hand on the afflicted woman’s shoulder and patted 
her soothingly. Looking at her mother she was 
surprised to notice that the expression on her face 
was decidedly unsympathetic, and to make up for 
her parent’s apparent indifference she redoubled 
in her attentions towards Theresa, whispering 
softly: 

‘Tf you think it ’ll do you any good, just go on. 
Mamma and I will listen.” 

The woman seemed to be quite different from 
her former self. She had broken through the thin 
armor of affected complacency and seemed alto- 
gether at the mercy of her feelings. As for her 
clever handling of the situation it had passed com- 
pletely out of her power. She seemed crushed, — 
and with a lurking dread, she said : “I want to tell 
you at the outset, Mrs. Birsch, that the fact I am 
a mother and have a son, has kept me innocent 
of—” 

It was an unfortunate beginning as far as Flora’s 
mother was concerned; she fidgeted in her seat. 
Theresa continued. 

'^Yes, innocent of certain wrongs. I have neither 
murdered nor stolen. In other ways, as I said, I 


164 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


have been careless because of my husband^s con- 
duct — only careless.” 

^^Mrs. Douglas,” interrupted Mrs. Birsch sternly, 
‘^you will excuse me if I send Flora away — there 
is something I should like her to attend to for me 
this very day.” 

^^Mamma!” pleaded the young girl, “wait until 
Mrs. Douglas — ” 

“Then I shall have to attend to it myself,” and 
Mrs. Birsch arose and was about to leave when 
Theresa straightened herself and stood before her 
barring her passage. 

“No!” she exclaimed hoarsely, “I shall not tell 
you! Like all women who have never suffered 
you believe that I — I am in the wrong — that I 
have done wrong. I can read your heart. That 
is why all these years I have shared my secrets 
with no human being — a man would have taken 
advantage and a woman would have sneered and 
turned away. I can trust no one!” 

Then she went into weird, hysterical ravings, 
striding back and forth across the veranda as if 
out of her mind. Her wailings were so terrible 
and her menaces so savage that both listening 
women trembled and clung to each other, fearing 
to move or speak. They could not understand her 
accusing phrases nor imagine what awful thoughts 


THE MEDIATORS 


165 


transformed her from a weak, but amiable, ap- 
parently rather frivolous woman, into a mad 
demon. It seemed that this unexpected fit of an- 
ger lasted hours. At times expressions of remorse 
escaped her. Her rage seemed no longer directed 
at Mrs. Birsch who felt conscious of having pro- 
voked it, however, by her interruption. Flora 
tried to scream, and Mrs. Birsch measured with 
her eye the height of the casement, forgetful of 
any other exit. have done no wrong, I swear 
it!^^ cried Theresa, and as suddenly as she had 
gone off into maniacal fury, her passion left her 
and she groped feebly to the nearest chair. Sink- 
ing limply into it she looked calmly at the two 
women. 

Flora was at her side at once and propped her 
head up with a cushion. Mrs. Birsch approached 
and leaning over her murmured: “Poor woman!” 
Theresa looked at her gratefully and murmured : 
“Forgive me. You think I must have been out 
of my mind, you must not believe that, for I’m 
not. Do not be afraid, although my wrongs and 
suffering at times drive me to the verge of insani- 
ty. I shall never attempt to speak of them again. 
The want of sympathy — ” 

“Oh, don’t” cried Flora, “we did not mean — ” 
“Yes, yes, I know^ yet it is always that way. 


166 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


But really it is best that I should not speak — , 
for the sake of my son. If only you would let me 
rest, my head aches so.” 

‘Toor dear,” and the young girFs forehead 
wrinkled in perplexity. ^Tt^s the camphor we 
want, Mamma call Malinda.” 

Before Mrs. Birsch had time to turn, the ban- 
dannaed head of Malinda was thrust through the 
open window that Flora had pushed up for air. 

^^Ah^ze on hand, Miss Flora. What you want, 
honey?” 

“Bring the camphor.” 

Theresa pressed her hands to her bosom and 
cried : 

“Oh! my heart!” then she stood up and gasped. 

She dropped heavily into Flora's arms. 

“Mother, quick, call to Malinda to hurry and 
get Obediah.” 

The burly negro who was listening at the door 
was at the girl's side in a second and relieved her 
of her burden. Theresa had fainted. 

After a few minutes of excited work with her 
she was carried upstairs and placed on the bed. 
Flora sent Obediah olff to French Village after the 
doctor, for scarcely had she and her mother suc- 
ceeded in removing Mrs. Douglas's clothes and 
putting her to bed, when she swooned away a 


THE MEDIATORS 


167 


second time. It took more than half an hour to 
revive her. She was so weak that they feared for 
her life. 

Mother and daughter sat down, one on either 
side of the bed and stared at each other. It was 
clear that they were in for an experience. Not a 
word was spoken. There was no necessity for 
words — the expression of despair that put their 
countenances into a panic of terror required no 
speech to explain away the situation or make it 
more poignantly bewildering. What could be 
done? Flora, more resourceful than her mother, 
racked her brain for an answer. She looked at 
Theresa who was resting quietly. 

know,’^ she whispered to her mother, raising 
her forefinger to her lips with a warning “Sh — 
Then she tiptoed to her and said softly, but with 
stress on each word: 

^We must send for Mr. Dade.^’ 

'That's the thing to do. This is his affair," and 
the good lady looked at Flora as much as to say: 

"He got us into this predicament — it's up to 
him to get us out." 

Flora lost no time. She left the room without 
disturbing the sleeper and went down at once. 
She was a creature of action, — warm-hearted and 
loyal, but thoroughly practical. She called Ma- 


168 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


linda to her and told her to go after Mr. Dade. 

''Malinda, now mind, don't tell him what's hap- 
pened. Just say I want to speak with him at 
once." 

Malinda with a knowing nod, and an ominous 
rolling of her eyes, hastily dried her hands in her 
blue-checked apron, and started for the back gate 
with a quick pace, her ample bosom and other 
generously proportioned parts keeping time with 
her step as she waddled along. Flora watched her 
until she disappeared at the turning of the '^short 
cut" that led to the backwoodsman's store, never 
for one minute decreasing her speed. 

In a very short time, the faithful old cook and 
maid-of-all-work was bustling about the kitchen. 

Dade was but a minute behind her. He came 
in through the front door, looking very uneasy. 
Malinda had flatly refused to tell him what was 
the matter although he had seen Obediah, a very 
few minutes before gallop past his place at full 
speed, on the old white horse, and had plied her 
with questions. 

''Come right on in here," called Flora who was 
waiting for him in the large drawing room. 

Dade advanced nervously twirling his hat. There 
was a threatening note in Flora's voice. 

"Mr. Dade," she began, motioning him farther 


THE MEDIATORS 


169 


in the room and closing the door, 'VouVe got 
mamma and me in a fearful mess. Do you know 
who this old lady is that you have succeeded in 
installing in our household, heretofore a quiet, re- 
spectable home?” 

''Eh!” replied Dade pulling himself together 
with a decided jerk. 

"Eh? Eh! indeed; you may well say eh! — but is 
that giving me any light on the subject?” 

Flora looked very severe, almost fierce as her 
eyebrows met in a frown and her shoulders shook 
in unison with her head, — one hand on her hip and 
the other raised towards him. 

"Why, er — that is, I asked her name, an^ — an' 
— says she, she said she was Mr. Douglas’s wife — 
haint that good recommendation? — Haint he re- 
spectable?” Dade had guessed that it was of no 
use to beat about the bush. 

"Ex-act-ly so,” Flora’s voice was the strangest 
compound of severity, outraged righteousness, and 
sauciness not to say boldness, that Dade had ever 
listened to. 

"Exactly so,” she repeated, "Mrs. Douglas and 
why didn’t you say to us yesterday, Mrs. Donald 
Douglas? You gave a home to the old man, you 
took him in and why didn’t you take in his wife? 
don’t plead scarcity of room. Your place could 


170 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


easily accommodate Price’s army. Tell me why 
you turned her out when she applied to you in the 
first instance?” 

Silas was fairly caught. In shifting his weight 
from one foot to the other the toe of one of his 
boots got caught in some way by the heel of the 
other, and he came near falling forward on Flora. 
She uttered a little cry which soon brought Malin- 
da to her elbow. 

^'What’s the matter, Miss Flora, honey?” and 
she scowled at Dade. 

‘T didn’t call you, Malinda. You’d better stay 
within earshot of Mamma. She might need you.” 

Malinda obeyed, mumbling as she went: “Ah 
knows ah wasn’t called in but all dis here squee- 
min’ an’ faintin’ am ’bout skeered mah clean out 
mah head.” 

“Sit down, Mr. Dade, for goodness’ sake.” 

“Looky here. Miss Flora, I must admit you kind 
o’ got me flunked. What’s happened? I can talk 
much more to the pint, if I’m in on what’s gnawin’ 
the sack,” put in Dade recovering his customary 
practical good sense. 

“Now, Mr. Dade, 'happened’, that’s a mild 
term. Why, this boarder, Mrs. Donald Douglas 
never intimated to us who she was until we acci- 
dently mentioned her husband’s name. Then she 


THE MEDIATORS 


171 


told us she would like to tell us her story, but in- 
stead of a story she said some very strange things 
about needing us to help her redress her wrongs. 
And because Mamma interrupted her once she 
changed her mind and went off in hysterics, tear- 
ing her hair and threatening to do some outrage- 
ous things. The upshot of it all was that she 
ended by having an attack of heart trouble. Obe- 
diah’s gone on a ten-mile dash to French Village 
for the doctor. In the meantime she's had a sink- 
ing spell and mother and I are petered out and 
frightened within an inch of our lives. Happened! 
indeed ! and — " Flora stood up and looked at Dade 
with a sort of contempt. 

Dade felt the glance rather than saw it. 

‘'And," resumed Flora, “you are the cause of it 
all. If she dies it will be your fault." 

“Miss Flora!" there was in the old man's voice 
a hint that she was going a little too far. 

“How much of Mrs. Douglas's past history do 
you know?" 

“Nuthin', 'ceptin' what she's said to me." 

“How often have you seen her?" 

Silas never would tell a lie and this last ques- 
tion caused him to jump and become confused 
more than ever. 

“I'm waiting for your answer, Mr. Dade." 


172 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

“I haint I’m just hesitatin’ a bit,” he 

managed to say. 

Flora almost lost control of her temper. 

^Tlinching is the word! If you^re not flinch- 
ing, then speak out.” 

seen— I seen her 'round these here diggings 
more'n twelve years ago.” 

‘Was Mr. Douglas with her then?” 

There was something so compelling about 
Flora's manner that Dade was powerless to re- 
sist. 

“Well?” Flora indicated she was waiting for 
his answer. 

“No, but Miss Flora, I dassen go no further. 
It brings up reps of dead people an' — an' a lot 
what no one oughter talk 'bout.” 

Then her mother was right thought Flora with 
a sigh. 

“And that's the way you imposed on poor 
Mamma and me?” 

Flora burst out crying. 

This frightened Silas more than anything she 
could have done or said. It finished him. If 
Flora had not been one of “them highferlutin' ” 
folks he would have patted her on the back and 
begged her not to cry. Dade was miserable. He 
twisted his old slouch hat until he made a cady 


THE MEDIATORS 


173 


of it. At last he asked in a shaky voice, watching 
the door for fear Malinda might hear Flora's 
sobs: 

'‘What you’re crying for, Miss Flora?” 

"Don’t ask me,” was the reply between con- 
vulsive sighs. 

"Miss Flora, I guess I look awful bad to you.” 

She dried her eyes and sat there looking straight 
at him. Dade felt encouraged. 

"You see a man haint got no sense, nohow, no 
he haint. Yisterday when she come over I wasn’t 
hankerin’ to talk to her, but she whined and 
coaxed until, by gum, afore I knowed it, I packed 
off here and had a talk with you an’ your ma. 
I’m just in the same position as you, she took me 
in, — inflooence of woman, I guess. Look how 
I’ve been listenin’ to you an’ answerin’ all your 
questions. Howamsoiver, now that I’ve gone an’ 
did it, I’m at your mercy. Do what you like with 
Silas Dade, only I beg you, by ginger, don’t teU 
my old woman ’bout this here business.” 

Dade saw his mistake in a half second. 

"Miss Flora, that last I said ’bout my old 
woman haint quite right, don’t take it on the 
wrong side, for there haint anythin’ betwixt me 
an’ any bloomin’ soul on this here dad-burned 
earth I’m ashamed of. I guess I’m just an ord’- 


174 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


nary cuss but there haint anythin^ low ’bout me. 

Silas thought for an instant and observing the 
look of trouble in Flora’s eyes he continued: 

‘T can see that ownin’ up seein’ the old lady 
in these parts some twelve years ago’s exerted a 
prejudice on your mind ’gainst her, but I want to 
tell you that there haint anythin’ wrong ’bout 
that, there might have been but there wasn’t. 
Howamsoiver, as I said before, I can’t say more 
’bout it on’count some dead Men’s, leastwise for 
fear you might think wrong of the livin’ I’ll just 
stretch a pint an’ say that Jean Frangois is con- 
sarned in an honorable way indirectly to a con- 
siderable extent, — no, not directly himself. He 
was just a boy at the time.” 

The last few words were meant to dismiss the 
look of incredulity with which Flora looked at 
him, and strengthen his assertion. 

Flora did not know what to think. She was in 
a more complex state of mind than she had been 
previous to Dade’s visit. But her excitement 
had quieted down and the mention of Frangois’s 
name — ^what possible connection could he have 
with the matter? — it was preposterous, but it 
took her mind off the main issue for one instant 
and when she thought of it again her vision was 
clearer. 


THE MEDIATORS 


175 


“Well, Dade, youVe got us into a most unde- 
sirable position. YouVe got to help us take care 
of the poor old lady, for I do believe she’ll die, 
and if not, poor thing, she’s in for a long spell 
of illness.” 

Flora now spoke in subdued tones. The fact 
was that she had always pitied Theresa; all her 
anger had been directed against Dade. 

“I guess all three of us’ll have to help her out 
now.” 

“Three? and what about her husband unless 
you mean him when you say 'three.' But I don’t 
want any more disturbance on the premises.” 

“Well, I did promise her I’d see what I could 
do but — ” 

“What!” exclaimed Flora, “You wouldn’t take 
her in your own home, but you must bring her 
here to patch up her domestic quarrels? You 
promised her you’d interfere, did you?” 

“Yes, I promised,” said Silas taken off guard. 

“Well, you’re a worse fool than I thought,” 
and there was the suspicion of laughter in her 
voice. 

Dade looked sheepish. 

Long before Flora left off quizzing Dade, the 
warm-hearted girl had forgiven the old fellow his 
share in the adventure. She could see plainly 


176 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


how he’d been inveigled into his present dilem- 
ma. She was silently amused at his discomfiture, 
but resolved to make the most of it. 

Also, the words dropped by Silas, that Jean was 
^‘consarned” indirectly had piqued her curiosity. 
If she managed the man right, there would be 
more to learn. 

''Now then, Mr. Dade,” Silas looked up quickly, 
he telt relieved that she was no longer angry, 
"since you have made the three of us — yourself 
first, then Mamma and me, mediators to bring 
about a reconciliation out of this domestic tangle, 
run along and tell Mr. Donald Douglas to hie 
up here as fast as he and you can.” 

"If that’s all you want me to do, I can bring 
him here.” 

"Dade,” Flora looked severe once more, "You 
are to tell Mr. Douglas the truth. First of all, 
has he any suspicion, or any idea, that his wife 
is here?” 

"Nope.” 

"Then you tell him to come immediately and 
tell him everything that has 'happened’!” 

"All right. Miss Flora, an’ I^m off at onct.” 

Dade left in a hurry. 

Flora went part of the way upstairs, then hur- 
ried out to the gate and called to Silas. 


THE MEDIATORS 


177 


He came back slowly, expecting that something 
awful had occurred. Perhaps the old lady was 
dead. 

^‘Don^t look so frightened, said Flora, laugh- 
ing freely for the first time. ‘T just want to cau- 
tion you not to breathe a word of this to anyone, 
especially Mrs. Dade.'^ 

Dade didn^t know whether to laugh or not. 
He didn’t quite see the point of the joke. He 
turned away but Flora called again: 

^^Do you ever talk in your sleep? If you do 
you’d better tie something over your mouth at 
night.” 

This time Dade walked right up to Flora: 

‘Wild-cats an’ fir-crackers! I haint plum’ 
clean out o’ my head. Miss Flora!” 

He closed one eye and looked at the girl calmly 
out of the other for some seconds. Then he 
turned away and went towards the mines. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE HAND OF BLIGHT. 

Almost an hour later, Silas Dade stood again 
before Flora. He twisted his old hat as he had 
done on the other occasion, and looked decidedly 
embarrassed. 

Flora gave him a withering reception. 

''Where is Mr. Douglas?’' she demanded sternly. 

"He — ^he woudn’t come.” 

Flora sank into the nearest chair. 

"You told him all that 'happened’ and he 
woudn’t come?” 

"Nope.” 

There was a short silence then Flora braced up : 

"I knew he wouldn’t come, Dade, I just felt it. 
If he’s been hard-hearted enough to abandon his 
wife he’s liable to do anything. What did he 
say?” 

" ’Lowed he warn’t makin’ up at the nether end 
of hfe; that we’uns didn’t consult him ’bout takin’ 
her in; an’ as she’s got ’nough money to pay her 
way he wasn’t necessary. He says he couldn’t be 

178 


THE HAND OF BLIGHT 


179 


held responsible for her; that we^uns’d have to 
make the most of it.’^ 

“But, Dade, did you tell him she^s likely to 
die?” 

“Yes; but says he: 'She haint of the dyin' 
kind!” 

“Well, in that case, Dade, you're responsible for 
her.” 

Silas looked at the girl aghast. Did she really 
mean it? What would Mrs. Dade say to that? 
Flora's anger would be as nothing compared to his 
old woman's. 

Flora guessed his thoughts but relented after 
he'd been sujficiently tormented. 

“Yes, Dade, you're responsible for her, but as 
I'm afraid you can’t give her the proper attention 
she requires, — we can't allow her to suffer, — Mam- 
ma and I will continue to look after her, only you 
must do your part. Go along now to your store 
and hold yourself ready to be at my beck and 
caU.” 

Dade bowed and went off feeling that he had 
escaped with less condemnation than he really 
deserved. 

As Flora had predicted, the doctor found Ther- 
esa's condition alarming. He thought she might 


180 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

recover but after a long spell of illness and with 
the most careful nursing. 

Mrs. Birsch threw aside all resentment and to- 
gether mother and daughter set themselves to the 
task in the proper spirit of kindness. Day after 
day passed and night after night but the two 
women never flagged in their devotion to their 
patient. As for Donald Douglas he completely 
ignored his wife. Occasionally Flora 'would in- 
quire of Dade whether he ever spoke of her and 
the honest backwoodsman would invariably 
answer: “Nope.^^ 

This was, however, the smallest trial the com- 
munity of Bonne Terre was called upon to go 
through. The hand of blight had been raised to 
strike and destroy. 

It was true, war had called into the ranks all 
young and able-bodied men, but hitherto, the re- 
moteness of the settlement protected it against the 
brunt of war’s cruel blows. By and by, tentaeles 
of the terrible dragon reached out and smote even 
the hearts of those in the quiet hills. Word came 
that Jean Frangois had been sent to Libby Prison ; 
that Joe Bardsdell had lost his life in the battle 
of Carthage ; and that many others, too numerous 
to mention, had fallen in divers engagements. 


THE HAND OF BLIGHT 


181 


Dade’s sons, all except Bud, were killed at Pilot 
Knob. 

Over across Big River there lived a small, keen- 
eyed man named Sam Hilderbrand. Old man 
Bardsdell unfortunately gave a party of Federal 
soldiers information regarding Sam, and they de- 
cided to go in a body and take him. On the way 
the men got an overdose of liquor and reached the 
cabin in a drunken state. Sam’s mother and wife 
who were alone at the time, resented the insults 
heaped upon them by the intoxicated soldiers. 
The result was that both women were murdered 
and the cabin burned. 

Sam Hilderbrand and his brother Frank became 
infuriated at the outrage. They organized a small 
band of desperate men like themselves, and terror- 
ized the country for miles around. 

They soon found out that Bardsdell was the in- " 
formant, and, therefore, chargeable with the 
shameful raid on Sam’s home. One morning, Sam 
and Frank rode up to the Bardsdell gate, called 
him out and shot him dead. They then threw the 
body back into the house and set fire to it. The 
outbuildings were not spared, but Mrs. Bardsdell 
and a faithful old servant managed to escape to 
the woods. 

The authorities hunted down the band of guer- 


182 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


rillas and succeeded in capturing all except Sam 
and his brother. A few months afterwards they 
caught Frank Hilderbrand, five miles east of 
Bonne Terre, in Shake Rag Settlement, — he was 
hanged and his body thrown into a well. 

Sam remained at large, considering practically 
everyone his enemy. Although squads of soldiers 
hunted him day and night, few really cared to 
meet up with him, for he had a reputation far and 
wide as the best shot in the state. He called his 
trustworthy rifle ^^Kill Devil,’’ and boasted that 
every time he killed a man, he filed a notch on the 
long barrel. In a short time, there were supposed 
to be twenty-seven notches on KiU Devil. Many 
threatened to kill Sam, but he went about with 
comparative boldness, thinning out his imaginary 
enemies one by one. 

It is said of Hilderbrand that he was informed 
of a certain man’s threat to kill him at sight. He 
cut a rough likeness of the man on an oak tree, 
and stepping off 200 yards, put a ball into the 
image’s head. Then he went to the man’s house 
and forced him to follow to the lonely spot in the 
forest. Having arrived, Sam explained the carving 
and target practice, and despite pleadings, he shot 
the unfortunate man, leaving the body beneath 
the tree, with a note reading: 


THE HAND OF BLIGHT 


• 183 


be it to all that cross my path/^ 

“Sam Hilderbrand/^ 

Notwithstanding the fact that he lay in the 
underbrush near Knob Lick and counted 150 Fed- 
eral soldiers who had been sent to capture him and 
his supposed second band of “bush-whackers/^ 
Sam coolly returned to Bonne Terre with the 
avowed intention of shooting Donald Douglas and 
two other men from St. Louis. He got the two 
men, but Douglas succeeded in escaping — thanks 
to Silas Dade, who alone remained on Sam’s list 
of friends. Sam, however, never suspected Dade. 
A little later the outlaw burned the little mining 
plant. 

Thus in a whirlwind of disasters. Bonne Terre 
wore mourning for her sons, and was blighted in 
the very beginning of her career. Many of the 
backwoods’ families among her population, imag- 
ining that they had incurred Hilderbrand’s dis- 
pleasure, moved into the retreats of the hill never 
to return. Only four widely scattered houses and 
Dade’s store remained. The only signs of life — 
a few women and children and saddened old Silas 
Dade — reminded an occasional straggler of the 
past, and kept the name of the site for future 
generations. 

One of the four houses was that of the Birsches. 


184 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Mr. Birsch did not dare return so long as Sam 
Hilderbrand roamed about. The family’s money 
was about all gone, but Mrs. Birsch and Flora 
stayed on and deprived themselves of everything 
except bare necessities in order to care for Theresa. 
Mrs. Bardsdell, also, lived with them. 

Theresa for six months hovered between life and 
death. Flora and her mother had lost all hope of 
Donald Douglas ever coming back to his wife, for 
since Hilderbrand’s sacking of the place, he took 
care to remain in St. Louis whither he had gone 
at Dade’s suggestion. No news had been received 
from Dan Douglas since he went away to join 
Price’s Army. Therefore, when Mrs. Douglas re- 
covered, the objects of her search were no longer 
at Bonne Terre. She considered herself very for- 
tunate to have found such friends as Mrs. Birsch 
and Flora — her long illness and helpless depend- 
ence had won for the sympathetic hearts of both 
women in the same measure. Mrs. Bardsdell and 
Silas were also friends. 

Theresa had completely changed. Her hair was 
white, and the once round face now elongated and 
cleansed of all bitterness smiled quietly on a new 
though still somber outlook of life. An expression 
of confidence softened her eyes despite the un- 
easiness of the times. Day after day, during the 


THE HAND OF BLIGHT 


185 


two blanching years that dragged on, she sat on the 
veranda and read, or talked with her companions. 
She never recalled the first day of her illness, never 
spoke of the past; so Flora and her mother pre- 
ferred to ignore it also, and look upon the frail old 
lady as if they had known her always. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE FALL OP RICHMOND. 

Although Frank Bardsdell and his son Joe had 
joined the Union and lost their lives in its cause, 
the father who was a Virginian by birth, was 
deeply attached to his native state and taught his 
children to love all its glorious traditions. The 
Bardsdells came of a fine old colonial family, and 
notwithstanding the fact that he and his wife 
settled in Missouri, Frank Bardsdell always said 
that his little daughter should have a good South- 
ern education. Mrs. Bardsdell held the same 
view; she wished Virginia to learn the ways and 
acquire the culture of Southern ladies, hence it 
was that the young girl was sent to Richmond 
just before the war. 

The first vacation, she managed to visit her 
mother and father, in Missouri, but after that, on 
account of the activities of the Cumberland Army 
with the Confederates, cross-country travel be- 
came hazardous, and Virginia remained in Rich- 
mond, at her mother’s old home. Grandfather 


186 


THE FALL OF RICHMOND 


187 


Brewer was dead, but Grandmother welcomed Vir- 
ginia and was but too happy of the chance to in- 
troduce her into desirable circles in the city where 
the Brewer name was a household word for honor 
and social prestige. 

Elmwood Seminary, in which Virginia pursued 
her studies, soon taught her to drop the back- 
wood's dialect. The school also awoke in her high 
ideals and a keen sense of a good woman's useful- 
ness. Just before General Grant's army invested 
the fortifications protecting Richmond, the Sem- 
inary shortened its term by two months, giving the 
usual commencement entertainments and exer- 
cises, and issuing diplomas to the graduating 
class. Virginia was one of the graduates who re- 
flected credit upon the institution by the excel- 
lence of their records. 

Some months before the siege of Petersburg and 
desultory fighting in Virginia, Jean Frangois and a 
band of wretched prisoners had managed to escape 
from Libby Prison. Their sufferings had been so 
great that they preferred death to a continuance 
of the horrible existence they had endured for 
nearly two years. Death did overtake most of 
them. Those who eluded capture and shooting, 
starved in swamps and glades. Only ten emaci- 
ated men finally made their way singly to safety. 


188 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


One of the ten was Jean Frangois. He wan- 
dered far before he dared show his face in daylight 
and at last reached Grant’s army. Although his 
term of enlistment had expired and he was far 
from his original command, he begged to be taken 
into the ranks that he might stand once more 
in the firing line. The officer he applied to ac- 
cepted him, and he again marched and fought 
under the Stars and Stripes. 

General Grant gradually advanced westward 
from Petersburg, and the undaunted and uncon- 
quered Sheridan, with a large body of cavalry, 
kept up a continual threatening of the railroads 
over which Lee received supplies. The Confed- 
erate general, John P. Gordon, tried to break 
through Grant’s line and even succeeded in carry- 
ing Fort Stedman by storm on March 25th, 1865, 
but as overwhelming numbers burst upon him the 
fortifications had to be abandoned. Sheridan on 
the 1st of April routed the Confederates at Five 
Forks, a fort that protected the railroad twelve 
miles southeast of Petersburg, and carried all the 
outposts after desperate fighting. Gen. A. P. Hill 
was killed in the attack. That night Lee’s army, 
more or less shattered and disheartened, fled from 
Petersburg and Richmond. Before the last army 
corps left Richmond, the Confederates set fire to 


THE FALL OF RICHMOND 


189 


the great tobacco warehouses. The conflagration 
leaped from street to street and spread over the 
entire business district which was soon a roaring 
furnace beyond human control. 

The next morning, April 3rd, 1865, at about 
three o’clock, when the advance guard of Grant’s 
Army entered the city, the heavens were aglow 
with the lurid flames that consumed the Capital 
of the Confederacy. There was booming of heavy 
cannonading in the direction of Petersburg, and 
the rumble of marching thousands sounded a death 
knell to the greatest civil war of modem times. 
Pandemonium prevailed in every part of the 
South’s proudest city. A horde of refugees, with 
hastily bundled belongings, ran ahead of the in- 
vaders, while screaming women in night attire and 
hair flowing ran through side streets. Many of 
the old and feeble fell on their knees and prayed 
for deliverance, and seemed surprised that the 
dust-covered, battle-torn ^'Blue Coats” did not 
shoot them. When the sun came up to shame the 
glare of the burning buildings, the city was over- 
run by a host of Grant’s victorious army and the 
United States Flag waved in triumph over the 
City Hall. 

Jean Frangois was in the advance column that 
marched into Richmond. Although a citizen of 


190 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

, ... 

Missouri and a volunteer in the Army ot the 
Cumberland, the young man^s earnestness had 
procured for him an enlistment in Grant^s army 
for one year, or until the end of the war. During 
the last two weeks’ fighting before the defenses of 
Richmond, several acts of signal bravery com- 
mended him to his general and secured for Fran- 
gois promotion to the rank of captain. 

Once the troops took possession of the city and 
something like order was restored, commands were 
issued for the soldiers to go out in squads and de- 
mand breakfast of the residents. When it came 
to Frangois’s turn, his company scattered about 
in a rather pretentious neighborhood — six or ten 
to a house — and asked that breakfast be prepared 
for them. Captain Frangois and five men pre- 
sented themselves at the door of Mrs. Brewer, who 
received them herself with the polite but severe 
dignity of a Southern lady when she believes her- 
self imposed on. They were asked to be seated 
in the drawing room while she saw that the meal 
was cooked. 

Many of the negro servants, in the belief that 
the Yankees were their deliverers, ran away to the 
Union lines upon the evacuation of the city by the 
Confederates. Mrs. Brewer’s servants having been 
swept away in the general panic, she and Virginia 


THE FALL OF RICHMOND 


191 


were obliged to cook breakfast for the soldiers and 
serve it as well. 

This went hard with both women. Mrs. Brewer 
was a devoted daughter of the Confederacy and 
looked upon the Blue Coats as enemies to every- 
thing dear to her. Notwithstanding that Vir- 
ginia’s father and brother had given themselves to 
the Federal Cause, she shared her grandmother’s 
views most ardently and had wept with her friends 
when the gallant Boys in Gray had to leave Rich- 
mond at the mercy of the North. 

It was therefore a cold, formal, because-they- 
had-to reception that young captain Frangois and 
his companions received. When breakfast was 
ready, Mrs. Brewer went to the drawing room 
door and announced to the captain and his men 
that they could follow her to the dining room. 

Frangois sat at the end of the table. It was the 
first time in two years that he had taken a meal in 
a house. He allowed his eyes to roam about the 
richly appointed room and to drink in its fresh, 
homelike atmosphere. Never had he seen any- 
thing so luxurious. Then he wondered what sort 
of people lived in such a home. Just as he made 
up his mind to scrutinize the mistress of the place, 
Mrs. Brewer, clad in a becoming morning dress. 


192 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


came in carrying a large platter of ham and eggs. 
She said in a frigid tone of voice: 

‘'On the approach of your army, sirs, all my 
servants fled, and I and my granddaughter are 
thereby obliged to assume the roles of cooks and 
servants to you, and your men.^’ Her eyes were 
directed on Frangois. 

“It never occurred to me before this hour,” she 
continued, “that I, a daughter of the South, a 
Confederate, and an ardent admirer of everything 
Southern, should be forced to serve Yankees.” 

The captain flushed. The men were so hungry 
that they continued eating and ignored the re- 
buke. 

“Madam,” said Francois with dignity, “I am 
sorry to trouble you. My men and I have had 
nothing to eat since yesterday at midday, and 
then, only a small portion of hard-tack. We are 
hungry and worn out by many days of marching 
and fighting, and are obeying orders in coming 
here, although, in a high-handed fashion, I admit. 
I repeat, I am sorry.” 

Mrs. Brewer, despite her uncompromising loy- 
alty to the South even in that dark hour of defeat, 
could not think of letting anyone in distress, or 
suffering of hunger, go unattended. She felt 
ashamed that she had complained with a taunt. 


THE FALL OF RICHMOND 


193 


^^Oh ! I did not mean, sirs, that I begrudge you 
the food. There is no hospitality that equals the 
Southerner's.” 

“So I have always understood, but this is the 
first meal I have sat down to in a Southern home 
— as to that, in any house at all for two years or 
more.” 

The ham and eggs were soon exhausted in ample 
helpings, and Virginia brought in the coffee and 
hot biscuits. 

“How does that happen?” asked the lady of the 
house after she had assisted Virginia in passing 
the bread and serving the coffee. 

“I spent over eighteen months in Libby Prison. 
I was taken at Chicamauga by the Confederates, 
and somehow, by shifting and forced retreats I 
finally got to that horrible death hole. I escaped 
and made my way back to the army.” 

“Then youVe suffered for your beliefs; they 
must be genuine since you are fighting in the 
ranks once more.” 

“Yes, suffered Madam, and I'm fighting that 
you and all in this land may be citizens of the 
greatest united republic in the world.” 

Virginia brought more hot biscuit. 

Mrs. Brewer for the first time since she had let 
them in, took the pains to look closely at her en- 


194 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


forced visitors. They were not at all a bad look- 
ing lot. The five soldiers — ^beardless boys — ap- 
peared quite decent. They were blue-eyed Penn- 
sylvania lads, and from their manners, evidently 
from good Northern homes. They must have had 
careful mothers. As to the captain himself, she 
admitted that he was a very handsome man. Her 
heart softened a little. 

She went back to the kitchen and after a few 
minutes returned with another plate of ham and 
eggs. 

Virginia put her head in the door: 

^^Grandma, perhaps the gentlemen would like 
our peach preserves — may I bring some?'^ 

^‘Yes, Virgie, and some more hot biscuit, please.” 

Captain Frangois, on hearing Virginians rich, 
sympathetic voice started involuntarily and 
turned to look at the speaker. He had noticed a 
young lady in and out a time or two, but had been 
so intent upon satisfying his gnawing hunger that 
he had not so much as glanced up at her. When 
he did look, her back was turned to him as she was 
leaving the room after taking in the preserves. He 
saw only the neat, graceful form of a young girl, 
in a dainty, flowered morning dress. 

Mrs. Brewer directed her attention to the sol- 
diers again, and noticed their perfect table man- 


THE FALL OF RICHMOND 


195 


ners. She ventured to address one who happened 
to look her way. 

‘‘Have you also been unfortunate in your sol- 
diering?^^ 

“If you mean, Madam, have I been in Libby 
Prison? I am glad to say I have not. But I have 
seen hard service all the same. Considering the 
number of battles IVe been in, I suppose IVe had 
my share of hardships.’^ 

“And you are very young.” 

“Old enough to fight, all right.” 

“How long have you been in the army?” 

“Four years.” 

“Great God ! and to think he must have killed 
any number of our boys in gray!” 

“It^s been part of our duty, Madam, and I can 
say that they have done all in their power to kill 
me — I have been wounded severely three times. 
Each of my four comrades bears wounds, and as 
for our captain, he’s just told you about the 
prison, but he’s gone through a jolly lot besides. 

“Ahem!” sighed Mrs. Brewer, for lack of any- 
thing better to say. She was quite disarmed by 
the uncomplaining, gentlemenly manners of her 
guests. As the thought passed through her mind, 
she regarded them more kindly. Surely, it was 
not supposed, nor generally known, that the 


196 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Northern Army had in its ranks young men of this 
caliber. 

Indeed, it was only after several years’ de- 
termined fighting that the North and the South 
discovered they were brothers exterminating each 
other. Could they have but realized the fact 
sooner, many thousand of lives would have been 
saved, and untold suffering avoided. But pacific 
settlement of great differences is not always God’s 
way. Frailty of humanity required that redemp- 
tion should come through suffering and death on 
the Cross; so great empires and bonds of brother- 
hood in liberty must be established and perpetu- 
ated through the shedding of blood in triumphant 
battles. 

Virginia came in and busied herself in dispens- 
ing the peach preserves. As the jars were sealed 
no one had liked to serve himself to the delicacy. 

Captain Frangois leaned forward and studied 
the girl intently — could he be mistaken? No; 
surely it was Virginia Bardsdell, had she not left 
the hills to go to Richmond? 

Mrs. Brewer observed the eager searching of 
Virginia’s face and was much annoyed. Just as 
she was trying to think of some way to indicate 
her displeasure, Frangois arose and took a step 
towards her granddaughter. 


THE FALL OF RICHMOND 


197 


“I am sure you are Miss Virginia Bardsdell/^ he 
said bowing. 

Virginia looked at him in surprised inquiry? 
canT be mistaken — there is no doubt of it/’ 
he persisted. 

Blushing and confused almost to the point of 
resentment, the young girl looked at the big, 
broad-chested six foot soldier, without the slight- 
est sign of recognition; in fact, she was sure she 
had never seen until then that smoothly-shaven 
face. Yet his calm, penetrating black eyes and 
something in the quality of his voice seemed to say 
to her: ^^You have known me, think well.^’ The 
honest and frank bearing of the speaker prevented 
any annoyance. Virginia, in a puzzled tone, said : 

^‘Yes, of course, I am Virginia Bardsdell, but 
who — 

“You do not recognize me at all. Miss Bards- 
dell?” 

The grandmother and the soldiers paused, very 
much interested in this turn of affairs. 

Virginia shook her head slowly as if sorry. 

“I shall not try your patience further — 

“I am Captain Jean Frangois whom you have 
known in the hills of Missouri.” 

“Is it possible!” and Virginia sprang forward 


198 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


with outstretched palm. ‘'How could you expect 
me to know you without your beard 

“Oh, is that it?” queried Frangois laughing. “I 
cut it before I left Bonne Terre and had quite 
forgotten I ever wore one.” 

“Yes, that's it,” cried Virginia. “I could not 
place your face although your eyes and something 
in your voice made me hesitate. I never would 
have believed that I could forget your face for I 
have thought so often of you.” 

It was Frangois's turn to color slightly — ^hadn't 
she said: “I have thought of you so often?” 

“Grandma,” she ran on gaily, and quite uncon- 
scious of the nature of her remark: “this is the 
bully — I mean the gentleman bully of our hills. 
Haven't I told you often about him? How won- 
derful! how perfectly wonderful! Now Captain 
Frangois, think of it! Oh, I was forgetting: 

“Captain Frangois, my grandmother, Mrs. 
Brewer.” 

“It is a great pleasure, Mrs. Brewer, to make 
your acquaintance,” continued the captain bowing 
very low. “This is indeed a most surprising turn, 
one of the* unexpected things one reads about but 
never believes in, — meeting a charming young 
lady friend and her grandmother, hundreds of 
miles from home, and in the very seat of war.” 


THE FALL OF RICHMOND 


199 


am so pleased to know you, Captain Fran- 
cois; indeed, Virgie has told me many things 
about you, and I understand now why you have 
made such a brave soldier and how you deserved 
promotion/' 

The captain now introduced his comrades, and 
related to them a few snatches of events back in 
Missouri. 

“Oh! Captain Frangois," Virginia interrupted, 
in such a changed voice, that a hush fell on the 
assembly, “I see from the way you're talking that 
you do not know what has happened in Bonne 
Terre." 

“No; I've not had a word from there since I 
left." 

“Poor Joe was killed in battle — he fought on 
your side, you know he was a Federal." 

“Yes." 

“And" — ^her face became white, her eyes dilated, 
and with a sudden movement she turned away and 
went and stood at the farther end of the room 
with her back turned — looking out of the window. 

Frangois watched her for a minute then Mrs. 
Brewer spoke in an awed voice: 

“It seems that a very bad man out there, Sam 
Hilderbrand, murdered her father in cold blood, 
and burnt their home." That was aU the good 


200 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

old lady could manage to say, an expression of 
horror overspread her features. Virginia had heard 
and Francois could see that she could scarcely 
keep from falling. She had clutched the back of 
a chair. Frangois would have liked to go up to 
her and express his sympathy but instead he 
looked blankly about him and the words choked 
in his throat. 

The soldiers had bowed their heads. 

Virginia came back slowly toward the group. 

“That is not all,^' she said, each word sounded 
as if it were gasped, “Silas Dade lost four sons in 
battle, at Pilot Knob, — Bud is the only one left. 
The same terrible man killed a score or more of 
people — and there are just four houses left — and 
Dade’s Store. The mining plant’s gone, too, and 
Mr. Douglas is in St. Louis, hiding from — ” she 
could not mention Hilderbrand’s name. 

All these disasters overwhelmed Frangois. He, 
in turn, walked to the window, his head bowed, 
and then he looked out — far over and beyond the 
burning city — in the direction of his home. He 
had not spoken a single word. Virginia was too 
much overcome by her emotion to watch him, but 
Mrs. Brewer read the genuine sorrow that each of 
Virginia’s words had stamped on his features. She 
recognized the futility of anyone saying, “I'm 


THE FALL OF RICHMOND 


201 


sorry,” at the recital of such misfortunes. 

Remembering his duty, Frangois squared his 
shoulders and faced about bravely. In a few ap- 
propriate words he thanked Mrs. Brewer and Vir- 
ginia for their kindness to him and his men. Then 
he informed the older lady that he expected to pay 
her for the food he and his men had eaten. 

“I shall not accept pay. Captain. I shouldnT 
think of it. I am sure you received no such orders 
from your superior officer and please do not offend 
me by mentioning it again.” 

^Then, we have indeed enjoyed Southern hospi- 
tality,” replied Frangois gallantly, '‘and in taking 
our leave, please accept repeated thanks from 
your devoted servant. If there is anything — ” 

"There is no need to mention so slight a service 
— a duty— to a hungry soldier whether of the 
North or South.” Mrs. Brewer resumed her look 
of dignified reserve for a few seconds then her 
manner became more amiable: 

"If youYe off duty this evening. Captain Fran- 
gois, Virgie and I will expect you to dine with us.” 

The captain bowed low again and assured his 
hostess that if it were in his power to come she 
might expect him. Then he bade good-bye for 
the time, and hurried off with his companions to 
join his command. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


PEACE. 

That same evening, Captain Francois, wearing 
his dress-parade uniform, new and glittering with 
trimmings and brass buttons, presented himself at 
Mrs. Brewer’s residence. During the day a courier 
had brought a note containing his formal accep- 
tance of the invitation to dinner, at seven o’clock, 
and conveying also the information that a special 
leave had been granted for the occasion. 

When he rang the door bell, Mrs. Brewer’s old 
black servant, Dinah, let him in and escorted him 
into the drawing room, — Dinah had decided that 
^^Missus” was preferable to Yankees ‘^an’ a passel 
of common niggers,” and had therefore, returned 
to her ^^home” in time to prepare dinner for Miss 
Virgie’s nice '^young man.” Virginia never knew 
how Dinah had come to hear about him. 

Mrs. Brewer and her granddaughter entered a 
few minutes later, and extended their guest a most 
cordial welcome. On the way over to the house, 
a feeling of embarrassment — a certain uncomfor- 


ao2 


PEACE 


203 


tableness — ^had come over Frangois, but the whole- 
heartedness with which he was received, and the 
easy tackle-and-take conversation that ensued 
without previous planning, dissipated his reserve. 
He forgot that he was a “guest’^ in a ^‘Southern 
home,” it seemed that his own dear mother had 
been transported into the elegant apartment and 
magnificent surroundings. As for Virginia, she 
was charming in manner, and healthy and perfect- 
ly natural in word and bearing. She talked easily 
and interestingly without the least self-conscious- 
ness. 

The three soon dropped into reminiscences of 
ante-bellum days, Frangois and Virginia convers- 
ing of Bonne Terre while Mrs. Brewer listened and 
occasionally put in a word — her daughter, Mrs. 
Bardsdell, had always proved a good correspon- 
dent and kept her informed of the development of 
the place. 

Virginia suddenly laughed: 

‘Why, you donT seem to notice that I donT 
speak backwoods dialect any more?” 

Frangois was a little embarrassed. 

“Oh! you needn't look like that,” she cried 
gaily, “I don't mind. When I think of it I al- 
ways laugh. Poor Grandma! when I first came. 


204 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


she tried so hard to break me of it without hurting 
my feelings!” 

'Tes, I did notice,” said Frangois politely re- 
fraining from a smile at her outbreak, “and all 
day I was trying to recall some of your pet ex- 
pressions that night at Dade^s Inn — for that is 
really the only time we — ^we talked to each other, 
I mean that we got acquainted. You left home 
one week after that and we never met until this 
morning.” 

“Did you remember any?” 

“I donT think I^d miss a single one.” 

“Then do repeat them for Grandma^s benefit. 
I^d like to hear them, but do you know that IVe 
made her a solemn promise to drop them for- 
ever?” Again she laughed unrestrainedly. 

Mrs. Brewer seemed happy to see her throw off 
the gloom that had oppressed her since news of 
the disasters at Bonne Terre had reached them. 

“That would be mocking you,” replied Fran- 
gois, “How can I think of doing such a thing?” 

“You need not ^mock^ that^s not exactly the 
word for it. Just repeat part of our conversation 
at Dade^s Inn, as you remember it. Please do.” 

Frangois glanced at Mrs. Brewer. The dear old 
lady smiled reassuringly over her spectacles, and 
her soft gray eyes granted permission as she leaned 


PEACE 


205 


back in her chair after smoothing her sleek ban- 
deaux, a single hair of which was never allowed to 
be disturbed, and she placed her hands on the 
arms of her fauteuil in an attitude of repose. 

Frangois felt that it would be impolite for him 
to refuse. An idea came to him, and he prefaced 
his recitation by explaining that the scene was 
laid at Dade's Inn — Mrs. Brewer must surely have 
heard of Dade's Inn — and it was after midnight 
supper at a dance. 

*The following dialogue took place between a 
young man and a valley girl: 

What have you been doing to-day. Miss Vir- 
ginia?' 

“ ‘Next to nuthin' — Mam an' Pap, they 'ns went 
over to the mill to tote corn, an' I come nigh hevin' 
a fit les' they'ns'd git home late.' 

“ ‘It looks as if you really wanted to come to the 
dance.' 

“ ‘Ghee whizz! you bet I did!' 

“ ‘I don't suppose there is much in that line go- 
ing on in the hills.' 

“ ‘Nope. We'uns don't hev much fun, but yer 
bet whin somethin' does come 'long, looky here, 
I'm — I haint I, if I don't go.' 

“ ‘Do you like to talk to young men, or do you 
prefer the girls?' 


206 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


'''Now don't that knock yer persimmon — 
'course, I'd rather chin with a boy — them'se my 
sentiments long as you've put it straight. Don't 
you like the gals?' 

" 'I don't know — unless you mean yourself?' 

" 'Huh ! you're a funny one. Most boys come 
right out with it. Gals is gals until they make up 
their mind to pick out one.' 

" 'Some don't take long to make up their 
mind.' " 

Grandma was shaking with laughter. Virginia 
got up and put one arm about Mrs. Brewer's 
neck: 

"Now, Capt. Frangois. you're not taking me off 
one bit. You've mimicked the couple that sat 
next to us at the supper table," and she raised a 
finger in warning, "If you're going to let Grandma 
believe I'd say such silly nonsense — " then she 
broke out in ringing laughter just as Frangois was 
beginning to feel he'd made a fool of himself. He 
finally joined in the merriment. 

"But Grandma," she cried as soon as she re- 
gained her composure, "Captain Frangois repro- 
duced that conversation just as it took place. I 
remember every word of it and I wonder how he 
could get it so exactly when he never spoke the 
dialect himself." 


PEACE 


207 


“I did not like to mention it, Captain Frangois, 
but since Virgie is alluding to it, your language 
and manners do not agree with the impression 
IVe had of — ” 

see,’’ interrupted Frangois, noting the lady’s 
hesitation, ^^Miss Virginia, I spoke the backwoods’ 
dialect until I was fifteen; then, like you, educa- 
tion came to my assistance and taught me the 
proper use of English words. But the fact that 
I no longer speak that way does not mean that I 
would criticize or ridicule our good backwoods- 
men. I was only giving Mrs. Brewer a — ” 

At this juncture, Dinah came to the door and 
announced dinner. 

They passed into the richly appointed dining 
room where was spread on the table such a feast 
as can be prepared only by an old black mammy of 
the South. How she manages it no one knows, 
and the mystery deepens when her kitchen is in- 
spected. Therein is such a maze of pots and 
pans and materials, mixed and otherwise — and it 
would appear to the on-looker at first sight, none 
too clean, but woe to whoever would dare suggest 
such a thing! How it is possible for Dinah or 
Rose or Jane or Malinda to bring out of that con- 
fusion any sort of dinner is a puzzle. Well, it’s 
best not to look in the kitchen at all, but what- 


208 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


ever Mammy prepares is always delicious and 
served in perfect style. The table on this par- 
ticular evening excelled anything Captain Fran- 
gois had ever seen in any of his wanderings. 

As the meal went on, Virginia, at the Captain's 
request, related something of her days at the Sem- 
inary. He was delighted to find that she had pro- 
ven herself to be an enthusiastic student, and had 
derived from the course the real essentials of an 
academic education. Topics of more or less seri- 
ous character came in for passing discussion, and 
he was deeply interested in her handling of them. 

As Virginia talked away, animated and becom- 
ingly flushed, her simple beauty and unaffected 
manners impressed themselves anew on his heart. 
The old feelings — locked up on a certain day, far 
up in the loneliness of the hills when he had talked 
with Basil — struggled for freedom. The call set 
him dreaming again and he lost himself in the 
music of her voice. 

But as a tempest in the night breaks upon the 
moon-kissed ocean and flays its peaceful calm, his 
dream ended in distressed confusion. A turn in 
the conversation dissipated Frangois's reverie. 
Quite suddenly in the middle of some remark, Vir- 
ginia broke off and asked in a slightly tremulous 


voice : 


PEACE 


209 


*‘Capt. Frangois, do you by any chance, know 
anything of the whereabouts of Dan Douglas?” 

Was it the sensing of anxiety in her tone, or was 
it the lightning flight of his memory back to that 
evening when he had sat on the ‘^front porch” and 
watched Virginia and Dan Douglas as they walked 
in the meadow path, that caused a dull ache in his 
heart? His eyes sought her, and as she looked 
she knew he had discovered her secret. The burn- 
ing flash of his eyes was followed by a quiet 
glance, but she felt her cheeks flush and hastened 
to add: 

^Tor three years I heard from him regularly. 
Then his letters came less often — as the army got 
into action, I suppose — and now it has been six 
months since he wrote.” 

The words seemed to cost an effort and Fran- 
gois felt guilty, as if his peeping into her heart had 
forced her to a sort of explanation. He addressed 
himself to her question : 

“No; as I stated before, I have not heard from 
Bonne Terre since I enlisted, and, as we are serv- 
ing on opposite sides it is not possible nor likely 
that— 

“Oh! how silly of me! Of course not, how 
could you have any communication with him! I 
must have had it in mind that you might have 


210 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


heard through Mr. Dade, for instance. But there 
again, you did not even know he had lost his sons, 
so — '' 

“You must excuse Virginia,’’ explained Mrs. 
Brewer, “she is naturally worried, being so fond 
of Mr. Douglas.” 

“Oh! Grandma!” 

“Why, Virgie, you seemed to be so well ac- 
quainted with Captain Frangois, doesn’t he know 
you’re engaged to Dan Douglas?” continued the 
old lady innocently. Virginia did not answer. 

Frangois saw how it had come about — the en- 
gagement had not been announced in the Ozarks 
the way Grandmother Brewer would have an- 
nounced it to her circle of friends and acquain- 
tances. 

He preferred not to enlighten further the correct 
Southern ladies on the etiquette of the hills so he 
interposed quickly: 

“Mr. Douglas is probably safe with his regiment, 
for I do not believe Price’s Army has had any 
hard fighting. Probably they are marching and 
there is a temporary cutting off of communica- 
tions.” 

“I hope it may be so. Since Grandma has un- 
intentionally let you into my secret, I don’t mind. 


PEACE 


211 


You are one of our home young men, anyway, 
aren^t you?^^ 

course, I am, and a backwoodsman besides,’’ 
he said soothingly but not daring to look at her. 

have been worried and imagined all sorts 
of things that were likely to happen to a soldier,” 
persisted Grandma. 

^^Yes,” said Virginia, recovering from her an- 
noyance at Mrs. Brewer’s simple directness — after 
all why should she mind when, as Grandma said, 
they were engaged? — “I am very fond of Dan, and 
I know he loves me and would write if he could. 
He has been punctual, and thoughtful of me at all 
times, although he does not know all that has 
happened to Mother and me. So, if he did know 
he would write at once unless, as you say, the 
communications are cut off. That must surely 
be the reason.” 

Frangois was happy that he had given her some 
comfort by suggesting that possibility. 

^^Yes,” he assured her, ‘'and most likely the 
mails have been intercepted by our army.” 

Just then there was a clatter of horses’ feet in 
the deserted street, and a bugle blew “Boots and 
Saddles.” 

Captain Frangois was all attention. He listened. 


212 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


The bugle sounded again, and he ran to the door 
followed by the ladies. 

‘Tou there, Harvey?’’ 

^^Yes, Captain. You’re wanted in the column. 
I took this means of calling you because I didn’t 
remember the house, only the neighborhood. 
Here’s your horse. I’m sorry, but time’s short.” 

Captain Frangois bade the ladies a hurried fare- 
well, and was soon galloping down the street. 

Grant had ordered the main part of the army 
out of Richmond in the general advance on Lee’s 
army towards Appomatox. Captain Frangois’s 
division was included in this movement. 

General Lee, with the tattered remnants of the 
grand army that had engaged the powerful forces 
of the North at Gettysburg, had retreated towards 
Lynchburg, along the north side of Appomatox 
River, in an endeavor to reach the mountains. 
General Grant led the large Federal forces in 
person, while a cloud of cavalry cut off the Con- 
federates’ retreat. Lee’s provision trains were 
captured, and, at last, on the 9th of April, 1865, 
the great Southern leader was overtaken with only 
8,000 starved men, and surrounded by the entire 
Union Army. He knew the end had come. His 
proud soldiers, like ancient Spartans, had done 
their best, and laying down their arms could not 


PEACE 


213 


dim their honor. A brief council was held near 
the quaint little Appomatox Court House, and 
Lee decided to surrender. Grant^s terms were 
generous, and Lee accepted them unconditionally. 

The Federal chief was kind in his hour of tri- 
umph. The Confederate officers were permitted 
to retain their swords, and the men their horses 
and personal property. Grant told them to go 
till the soil and be good citizens. 

In the eulogy of the Federal Army of the Po- 
tomac, by a Northern historian, this is what he 
says of Lee’s Army: 

“Nor can there fail to arise the image of that 
other army that was the adversary of the Army 
of the Potomac, and which — ^who can ever forget 
that once looked upon it? — that army of tattered 
uniforms and bright muskets — that body of in- 
comparable infantry, the Army of Northern Vir- 
ginia, which for four long years carried the revolt 
upon its bayonets — opposing a constant front to 
the mighty concentration of power brought 
against it; which, receiving terrible blows, did 
not fail to give the like, and which, vital in all 
its parts, died only with its annihilation.’^ 

Other Confederate generals surrendered quick- 
ly, and the South accepted the dictates of Fate 
and returned to the Union of States. 

Peace spread her wings over the land. 

During the days of marching. Captain Fran- 
gois fought out a war with himself. His old love 
for Virginia awoke with great vigor when he 
found her in the ill-fated city, and the discovery 


214 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


that she owned herself pledged to a man whom 
he had come to distrust, only tempted him the 
more to try to win her for his wife. And why 
did he distrust Dan Douglas? He could not ex- 
actly tell. One minute he declared vehemently 
that the young St. Louisian should never wed 
Virginia; then he condemned himself — for on 
what grounds could he presume to interfere with 
the happiness of the young man? — Moreover, had 
Virginia not declared that she was fond of him? — 
Finally, the noble generosity of Francois’s nature 
calmed the storm, and persuaded him to fetter his 
secret and lock it again in that inner chamber 
known only to himself and God. 

And again there was peace in his heart. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE HOME-COMING. 

June smiled upon the peaceful hills of Bonne 
Terre. Wild grasses and flowers sprang up to 
hide the charred ruins of homes. Birds sang 
gaily as they fed their nested young. Cowbells 
jingled on the range, and the ploughman once 
more drew rein in the furrows. Muskets and 
guns having been laid aside, the few war-scarred 
veterans returned to take their places in civil 
life. 

The last rays of the setting sun were casting 
their shafts over the summit of Blue Hill when 
Jean FranQois came out in the open and looked 
down on the deserted village. Although, in a 
way, he expected to find some changes, he was 
not quite prepared for the scene of desolation 
spread before him. He saw only four houses 
and the blackened smoke-stack of the mining 
plant. Dade's General Store stood apart like a 
monument to the past. His eyes sought his own 
cozy cabin, but it, too, had disappeared. There, 


216 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


however, was the guide-post to where it had 
stood: the squatting, ivy-clad chimney of his 
father's hut that stood guard over his parents' 
grave and reminded of the changing vicissitudes 
of this world, — how much had happened as he re- 
viewed his career back to the days of his happy 
boyhood! 

He leaned against a friendly oak and wiped 
the perspiration from his brow. Wonderingly, he 
went over the landscape again, putting back from 
memory everything as it was before he left. At 
last he spoke aloud, asking and answering a ques- 
tion which was: 

Among those who remain, have I one friend?" 

“Yes," was the unhesitating response, “Silas 
Dade." 

And at the same time the remembrance of blue 
eyes that had bade him a wistful good-bye flashed 
on his consciousness and he looked in the direc- 
tion of the Birsch homestead, yes, the place was 
there, it was one of the four houses left. 

“I can always count on Uncle Si," he repeated, 
ignoring the suggestion of possibly others being 
interested in him. Jean directed his steps towards 
Dade's place. 

That day another came home. At noon a 
wagon halted in front of the spot where had stood 


THE HOME-COMING 


217 


the Bardsdell house. Virginia alighted and after 
a few minutes^ hesitation walked over the place. 
She had nerved herself for this visit and strove 
heroically to remain composed. The old driver 
shook his head sorrowfully as he watched her pick 
her way across the bleached foundations, her 
skirt carefully held up as she stepped among 
the brambles and vines. Ned Dockart drew out 
his pipe and puffed clouds of smoke so as to dis- 
tract his mind from the black-clad figure by the 
ruins, occasionally he tugged at his white beard. 
Virginia stepped across into the garden. Neglect- 
ed roses blossomed, and the climbing ones — their 
supports fallen to the ground — trailed along the 
earth. She picked a few after a good deal of 
thorn pricking and placed them in the midst of 
the brambles that overran the charred remains of 
her home. Then she started over to the orchard. 
Her favorite apple-tree had lost more than half 
of its sturdy boughs. The same flames that had 
destroyed the green-shuttered house had spread 
to the out-buildings and dared attack the trees 
near by. It was useless to try to find one thing 
that had escaped whole, so, with a sigh, she turned 
away and went back along the flat stones that 
formed the walk from the front porch to the gate. 
Before reaching the wagon she gave a last look. 


218 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


She covered her face with her hands and wept 
convulsively. Ned looked around uneasily but 
concluding that he could do no good by talking, 
he busied himself nursing his rheumatic knee and 
when he wore out at the task, he nagged at the 
old horse as a sort of reminder of his presence. 

When darkness came on, Virginia was settled 
with her mother in the Birsch house, enjoying 
Mrs. Bardsdell^s mothering as she took her daugh- 
ter in her arms whenever fresh tears would start 
at the mention of some occurrence of misfortune 
she had thought fit to conceal from Virginia and 
Mrs. Brewer at the time. But there was a great 
deal of happiness in their meeting, and Mrs. 
Bardsdell would suddenly hold her daughter away 
from her at arm’s-length and look at her with 
pride. Then Virginia would blush and laugh and 
hide her face on her mother’s shoulder. 

And Frangois — Captain Frangois — sat up late 
with Silas, Mam, and Bud, listening and relating 
in turn, and comparing notes of his various ex- 
periences with Dade’s son. 

The changes in Bonne Terre were much greater 
than Frangois at first supposed. Some of the dis- 
asters had been told him by Virginia and Mrs. 
Brewer; — more he discovered; and still there were 
others. Sam Hilderbrand had killed several of 


THE HOME-COMING 


219 


the old-timers, and their farms were nearly all 
abandoned, their families having moved away or 
sought the fastness of secluded hollows far up 
in the hills. The very few who remained in the 
neighborhood of Bonne Terre looked suspiciously 
at Captain Frangois whenever they met on the 
road. It must be remembered that he was a 
Yankee and that even before the war many had 
looked askance at him. They were strong sym- 
pathizers with the South, so besides the old griev- 
ance against Paul Frangois’s son, there was cause 
for feeling. Captain Frangois was once more a 
stranger in his home land. And few tried to con- 
ceal the fact from him. Of those who had known 
him in the old days, Silas Dade and his family 
were the only ones on whose friendship he could 
count. They had remained steadfast and true. 

One day as Frangois was reflecting on his present 
standing in the surroundings of Bonne Terre and 
in the community of the little town itself — such 
as it was then — his mind reverted to his old chum 
back in the wilds. At once he decided to find 
him, if possible. As soon as he could get away 
he hastened to their accustomed meeting place. 
It was scarcely to be expected that Basil would be 
there. Still Frangois waited until the sun’s sha- 


220 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


dow passed well beyond the hump on the bench 
before he headed for the hermit^s retreat. 

The old trapper, in his usual hunting accouter- 
ments, and somewhat older looking, but quite vig- 
orous and strong, was seated in the shade of his 
cabin reading a well-thumbed history of the 
French Revolution when Dijon attracted his at- 
tention. The faithful and intelligent animal, al- 
so showing a marked advance in years, placed his 
paws on his master’s knees and barked with his 
head turned towards the trail. Basil’s keen eyes, 
shaded by shaggy eye-brows flecked with white, 
shot a gleam of surprise. Then turning to the 
open window he threw his book upon his kitchen 
table. Dijon was for going down the trail, but 
instead, the old Frenchman advanced to the edge 
of the cliff and peered over. He was not long in 
descrying a figure toiling up the rocky way. His 
hands were soon clapping in great glee a fandango 
for Dijon and he cried: ^Tt’s my son!” The an- 
imal whose movements were becoming heavy on 
account of age wriggled with delight as he watched 
his master, and gave an occasional bark. 

Frangois was now near enough to observe his 
hunting mate’s delight, so he shouted using his 
hands for a megaphone: 

"'Vive VAmeriquer 


THE HOME-COMING 


221 


*'Oui! Vive VAmerique! rolled down to him 
from the crag. ^^Vive VAmerique!” 

^^Soyez le bien-venu, mon fils!” cried Basil as 
Frangois stepped on the ledge of the cliff after his 
arduous ascent. ^‘Vive VAmerique!” and the tall 
fur cap was tossed in the air to be picked up by 
Dijon who thought he must take part in the dem- 
onstration of joy. After some playful scramb- 
ling Basil recovered his head-gear and turned to 
his young friend. 

The meeting was touching. Neither of them 
could say anything now that they stood face to 
face. But Basil, large tears of gladness glistening 
in his eyes and rolling down in his scanty white 
beard, seized the massive young man by the 
shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks. 

After a while he led Frangois to his cabin and 
drawing out a stool next to the big arm chair in 
which he pushed his visitor, he sat down and 
rested his arms across the young man's knees. 

‘^Now, Jean, tell me the story — the glorious 
story! My son, at times I feared you lay dead on 
the battle field, then again I hoped — for this day. 
Speak, Jean, tell me all." 

'Trom the very beginning?" 

‘Tes." 

He listened, as it would have appeared to an 


222 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


on-looker, with his eyes as well as his ears, so in- 
tent was he on Frangois’s every gesture; he hung 
on his lips, burning with enthusiasm at the recital 
of some glorious charge, tears welling in his eyes 
at the thought of homes made desolate, his heart 
wrung with grief that the welding of the nation 
should have cost so many lives and caused so 
much misery. 

^‘Ah, Jean!’^ he would then cry, ^Tt will take 
another generation to reap the benefit, but it will 
be worth the struggle, and those who will come 
after us will never forget the cost. All those who 
took part, whether in the North or South, will be 
remembered and honored.’’ 

Again Basil would jump up when portions of 
Frangois’s narrative appealed to his imagination, 
and standing at attention, all the while, as if the 
scene were enacted in his presence, he would greet 
the climax with cries of “Vive I’Amerlque!” 

Basil always lapsed into French when moved 
by strong emotion. 

When the young man finally succeeded in par- 
tially satisfying his curiosity regarding the move- 
ments of the regiment in which he was enrolled 
on his reenlistment, Basil spoke: 

'‘Mon bon fils, it is all wonderful, and from your 
account I glean that you have acquitted yoxirself 


THE HOME-COMING 


223 


like a brave soldier else you could not speak of it 
as you do, but now tell me more. I Ve been starved 
these three years for news of you, tell me of some 
of your personal experiences. Any promotion?^’ 

‘‘Captain,^^ replied Frangois modestly. 

''Ah! Voila qui est bieni Capitaine Frangois, je 
vous salueT 

The old man arose and suiting the action to the 
words, he saluted the young officer military style. 
After dancing about in great glee with Dijon at his 
heels, he resumed his seat and begged Frangois to 
give him the minutest details of his share in the 
famous charge that had won him his promotion. 

There was no help for it, and amid appreciative 
exclamations in French, the Captain told his story, 
omitting no incident. It was long past the hour 
for Basil to light his lamp when he realized that 
he was neglecting his duties as host. Just as sud- 
denly as he had at times interrupted Frangois in 
his enthusiastic admiration, he jumped up and 
declared they must have supper. 

When he finished the preparations for the meal 
and they sat about the table it was the signal for 
another outburst of “Vive FAmerique!'' and “Tell 
me again about General Grant,’' amid snatches 
of martial songs of old French days. 

It was a gala evening for Basil, but at last, ex- 


224 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


hausted by so much unwonted excitement he sat 
silent for a long time. He looked at Frangois 
gravely: 

*^My son/^ he finally said, “I am proud of you 
— my brave young captain — ^you have performed 
a duty to your country and generations yet un- 
born as becomes a citizen of this great republic. 
Now the wasted village yonder needs the services 
of a strong man. Though the wounds wrought 
by war may have steeled hearts against you, I 
know you will spend your time and your energy 
for them. 

“Once I went with you to the edge of the valley, 
and pausing there, bade you give up the chase and 
devote your life to usefulness. You hearkened 
to an old man, a strange hermit, you have striven 
and covered your head with glory. Buckle on 
the armor again. Turn from war to civil activity 
for the good of the handful that remain. Go to 
them, make them love you. When you build a 
home, I shall come now and again and feast my 
eyes on my son.” 

This time Frangois bowed in recognition of the 
soundness of Basil's advice. 

The next morning he turned his face once more 
to Bonne Terre. When he had advanced far be- 
yond the gorge he looked back and saw the white- 


THE HOME-COMING 


226 


haired Frenchman still standing out on the high 
rock, the glow of the morning sun gilding his pic- 
turesque form. Basil saw Frangois turn. The old 
man waved a blessing; then pointing to the green- 
clad mountains he seemed to bid them, by signifi- 
cant gestures, be friends to him who must struggle 
with them to wrench from their hearts the secrets 
they had guarded for ages. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


FRANgOIS'S DIFFICULTIES. 

Life in Bonne Terre was slow and uninterest- 
ing for some time. The small population left in 
the village and immediate country was insufficient 
for much activity, and the resultant lethargy after 
the great storm that swept over the land required 
several months^ quietude and reflection to enable 
men and women to get back to normal. Then 
slowly they began to move about and think of re- 
constructing their homes. 

Mr. Birsch ventured to show himself again 
among the deserted shafts of the pocket mines, 
and was soon joined by Donald Douglas. They 
invited miners to take out mineral; then it was 
hauled to the river and shipped. More miners 
were gradually brought down from St. Louis. Cot- 
tages hastily erected accommodated their families 
and started off the town on a new career. 

Mrs. Bardsdell, through Mrs. Brewer’s influence, 
induced a staunch young Virginia farmer to move 
to Missouri with his family. She permitted him 


226 


FRANgOIS’S DIFFICULTIES 227 


to build a substantial house on the foundations of 
the old Bardsdell homestead, and had erected for 
herself, Virginia, and her mother, who decided to 
leave Richmond and take up her abode in Bonne 
Terre, a nice dwelling on a choice plot of ground 
on the edge of the town. 

A private school was opened by Captain Simp- 
son Poston, the same individual who had fought 
with Joe Bardsdell over politics at the begihning 
of the war. An enterprising Catholic priest came, 
started a mission, and ultimately built a church. 
An excellent carpenter and builder, Jesse Elvins, 
put up a shop and began working for the company. 
Young Dr. Keith came and started his practice; so 
that little by little the necessary factors gathered 
about the settlement and formed a strong nucleus 
for further development. 

Frangois took one of the vacant places in Dade's 
broken family circle and labored untiringly with 
Adolf Birsch and Donald Douglas towards rehab- 
ilitating the mines. When Frangois mentioned to 
Douglas something about taxes, he was informed 
that all taxes had been paid up to date and assured 
they would be kept up by the mining company as 
long as it operated. 

All this advancement in the mines and the town 
was accomplished in less than eighteen months, 


228 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


and started such a movement of progressiveness 
that Bonne Terre awoke to the expectation of a 
healthy, respectable future. 

One member of the old colony, Dan Douglas, 
had not up to that hour been accounted for. No 
word had ever come from him. His father mourned 
him as dead, but Virginia, with love alive in her 
heart, dared to look for his return. She insisted 
it was impossible for one so kind and thoughtful 
at all times, to pass out of this world without leav- 
ing some token for her, and that while she admit- 
ted his absence most mysterious, he would appear 
some day with a satisfactory explanation. 

Virginia proved to be right. Just after Bonne 
Terre attained a fairly prosperous position as a 
result of the boom described, Dan Douglas did re- 
turn, hale and hearty, and as handsome and plaus- 
ible as ever. The story he told was related with 
a flourish and dash, sprinkled with a soupgon of 
humility sufficient to give it the ring of truth. It 
satisfled the popular thirst for adventure, and 
Dan became a hero. Women lionized him, and 
his oft-repeated tale gained the prominence of be- 
ing the most thrilling story brought back from the 
war. 

The following synopsis gives an idea of Dan 
Douglas’s varied experiences; — 


FRANgOIS'S DIFFICULTIES 229 


He began with the explanation of how he was 
captured by Gen. Halleck on crossing over from 
Belmont, and how he kept on writing for a time, 
not wishing to press his misfortunes on others. 
One day, in an endeavor to escape a guard struck 
him on the head with the butt of his gun. Be- 
lieving him dead, he was thrown into a river — 
presumably the Mississippi — and picked up by 
a raft. He rather thought he must have saved 
himself by clutching to the raft for he did not re- 
member anyone being on it. Anyway, he landed 
far down in Arkansas, his memory perfectly blank. 
What queer things he must have done or said he 
left to the imagination of his listeners, but not 
without suggestion. A funny old hunter took him 
in charge and led him far into the interior, where 
he remained until a short time before his return 
home. Three months previous to that, a wander- 
ing Cherokee Indian had come along, and becom- 
ing interested in his story as told by the hunter, 
declared he could effect the restoration of his 
memory. On obtaining permission from the hun- 
ter to try his skill, the Red Man struck him on the 
head with his tomahawk. The old hunter believ- 
ing the Indian had intended to murder his protege 
shot the Cherokee on the spot. For a long time 
of course, three months, was told, he ling^ed 


230 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


near death's door, then, lo! he recovered and 
memory came trooping back and started the end- 
less chain of recollections. As the proper link ar- 
rived before the clarifying window of his mind, he 
remembered Bonne Terre and all the rest. 

Dan showed the scar on his head In confirma- 
tion of the latter part of his story. 

•'How perfectly wonderful!” cried everyone 
"Marvelous!” 

But Captain Jean Frangois doubted the tale. 

Yes; Frangois doubted Dan, though he chided 
himself for what he thought perverse jealousy on 
his part. However, he never told anyone of his 
suspicions, for what right had he, Jean Frangois, 
to doubt the veracity of a young man who pos- 
sessed so many good qualities as Donald Douglas’s 
son? The story, even if it did border on the im- 
probable, was possible. Such instances as a sud- 
den blow restoring memory were recognized by 
science. Dan was apparently truthful in every- 
thing else, and why should he palm off on his 
home people, especially trusting Virginia, a yarn 
such as he had told? He might have added a few 
flourishes but the main facts must be true. "No,” 
said Frangois, "I am prejudiced against Dan be- 
cause of my love for Virginia. It is mean of me 
and I must watch myself.” 


FRANCOIS’S DIFFICULTIES 231 


He did. Dan and he worked side by side in 
the mines for some time and nothing came up that 
could suggest Dan was other than a very upright, 
honorable young man. 

But independent of his resolve, Frangois’s sus- 
picions were aroused by a queer coincidence. On 
a trip to Ste. Genevieve in connection with ship- 
ments of lead, he met incidentally a United States 
officer of the Federal Court who was in search of 
escaped members of Wallace’s Gang. Frangois 
was naturally interested in his mission as the 
Gang was a strong organization of bandits who for 
many years had evaded capture by hiding in the 
swamps of Southeast Missouri where they had 
their rendezvous. It was supposed to consist of 
about 500 members — army deserters and fugitives 
from justice, in fact part of the flotsam cast up in 
war times. Finally, after their many depreda- 
tions in various localities, the attention of the 
Federal Government was directed to the terroriz- 
ers, and a force sent against them. The nest was 
broken and most of the men taken. Those who 
escaped capture or managed to get away from 
their guards were hunted down one by one. The 
officer confided to Frangois and the hotel keeper 
that he was looking out for a young man who was 
with the gang at the time most of the bandits 


232 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


were captured. His exact connection with them 
had not been ascertained but the fact that he was 
with them rendered him liable to arrest. Billings 
— Dan Billings — the young man in question, had 
a narrow escape. In the melee he had been se- 
verely wounded in the head and, believing him to 
be helpless, the soldiers had gone ahead in pursuit 
of the living. When they returned to get him he 
had disappeared. He was manded at the trial 
of the men as it had been since discovered that he 
was a member of the gang. He then proceeded 
to describe Dan Billings. The description was so 
strikingly similar to Dan Douglas’s physical char- 
acteristics that Frangois was greatly disturbed. 
But the hotel keeper gave the officer positive assur- 
ance that he had seen just such a young man as he 
described killed in an affray at St. Mary’s a short 
time before. He declared he had assisted some 
others in trying to identify him. The officer, fully 
convinced, took the hotel keeper’s name and re- 
turned to St. Louis by the next boat. 

It was not only the description of Dan Billings 
that disturbed Frangois. It was also the prelim- 
inary statements of the officer: Dan Billings was 
supposed to have enlisted in Price’s Army, either 
at Farmington or Pilot Knob, and then deserted. 
Frangois vainly tried to get rid of the impression 


FRANgOIS^S DIFFICULTIES 233 


the incident had made on his mind, and in spite 
of his sentimental generosity toward his rival he 
pondered over it. The more he tried to put it 
from him the more it forced itself upon his con- 
science until he decided to put an end to the affair 
by proving to himself its impossibility. He 
shrugged his shoulders and wondered what other 
tricks his insane jealousy would play on him. It 
was preposterous. 

One day when he and Dan were hard at work 
over some mining problem, young Douglas paused 
in his task and ran his hand through his hair. It 
was a mannerism he acquired to remind bystand- 
ers of his wonderful adventures, a modest way of 
saying: canT help it if I^m a hero. I bear the 

stamp.'^ The women were always deeply moved 
by the special gesture. This time it caught Fran- 
gois’s eye and he said laughingly: 

“If I were you, Dan, I should refrain from go- 
ing to Ste. Genevieve’s for some time.” 

“Why, what’s up?” 

“Oh, nothing, only you look so much like a cer- 
tain Dan Billings I heard about that you might 
be taken for him.” 

Frangois was going on with his work. He pur- 
posely avoided looking at Dan, thinking himself 


234 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

very mean for having broached the subject that 
scarcely gave him any rest. 

Dan had made an effort to keep on with his 
figuring up the cost of building larger offices for 
the company. In adding a column of numbers 
and giving the total he blundered so terribly in the 
estimate that Francois glanced up. Dan was 
reading thousands for hundreds. 

Frangois watched him closely. There could be 
no mistaking his agitation. Dan discovered his 
error and rectified it. He hurried through the rest 
of the work and when he got through he made at 
once for his hat. Frangois followed his example. 

At the door, however, he paused and invited 
Frangois by gesture to accompany him. 

^TeU me about — Dan Billings,” he stammered. 

Frangois told him all, watching closely all the 
while. When he finished Dan was deathly pale. 

^'And did he reaUy beheve what the hotel keeper 
said about the young man^s death?” Dan fumbled 
in one pocket after another then he tapped his 
forehead, 'T must have left my pipe on the desk, 
IT go after it.” 

In the meantime Frangois had answered: 

“Oh! the officer believed old Landet and went 
back to St. Louis. I saw him board the train.” 

He turned and called : 


FRANgOIS’S DIFFICULTIES 235 


“Shall I wait for you?’^ but Dan pretended he 
did not hear, so Frangois went home alone. 

When next they met, Dan had trimmed down 
his rather full mustache, and in a few weeks he 
looked quite different — he was wearing side-burns. 

Frangois worried more than ever. He had 
thought to put an end to his doubts, and instead, 
he was tormented by the conviction that Dan 
Douglas was, if nothing worse, a deserter. The 
fact that he was a deserter from the Confederate 
Army rendered him immune from prosecution by 
the Federal Government, but judging from Dan^s 
uneasy attitude at all times, he seemed to have 
other cause for worry. As for Frangois, the fact 
that he went on day after day loving Virginia 
hopelessly while she was engaged to a man who 
was renegade to the cause he had joined hands 
with, and a liar, besides, weighed heavily on his 
spirits. And yet there seemed nothing to do but 
wait and let the future unravel or tangle up hope- 
lessly the skeins of several lives; the latter thought 
was intolerable to him. That Virginia should 
suffer through Dan^s mistakes not to say crimes 
made the cross of life too heavy for Frangois to 
bear. He tried to lighten his burden by avoiding 
Dan, but that affable individual, fully convinced 
that he had not betrayed himself, recovered his 


236 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


normal poise and forced his company upon the 
Master of Bonne Terre. Likewise, it was impossi- 
ble to avoid Virginia since she was a constant 
companion of Flora Birsch^s at whose house he 
visited. Bonne Terre was not so large that one 
could lose himself in the crowd. After repeated 
conflicts with his feelings and conscience, Fran- 
Qois lulled himself to rest by conceding that as 
Dan Douglas was still young and perhaps not 
guilty of any gross crime, personally, he should 
be given a chance to retrieve himself. Moreover 
how could he dream of informing Virginia that he 
thought her lover a blackguard? Would she be- 
lieve him? No; she would only misconstrue his 
motive. 

So Dan Douglas was given the beneflt of the 
doubt, and he took advantage of it and continued 
the hero of the place. Only, he no longer ran his 
fingers through his hair, and the scar, formerly 
very much in evidence, was carefully concealed. 
Quite often he would be pressed to recount to 
some visitor the narrative of his adventures, but 
with a nonchalant gesture he claimed to have 
quite forgotten them. His modesty became the 
universal theme. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


COMPLICATIONS. 

It seemed to Frangois that he was destined to be 
forever grubbing in some muddle. Scarcely had 
he settled down to tolerating the younger Doug- 
las, when Mrs. Douglas, who was still living with 
the Birsches, took a violent liking for him, and all 
but dragged him into the disagreeable domestic 
tangle which existed between her and her husband. 
It was only after the exercise of much tact that he 
succeeded in retaining the friendship of the elder 
Douglas. 

Along with this trial was another that pained 
Frangois by subjecting him to public comment. 
During the past two years, various persons de- 
clared they saw, at intervals of a few days, a ghost, 
or apparition of some sort, within the walled en- 
closure of the grave by the chimney. What gave 
it more weight was the fact that those who 
claimed seeing the specter were newcomers in 
Bonne Terre. So the few old-timers said: ‘TPs 
old Paul. He must have been guilty of some 
crime, after all.^' 


237 


238 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


The strange burial of Frangois's parents had 
always reflected on him, and now when the ghost 
story came up, the superstitious suggested various 
possible reasons why the old backwoodsman should 
be disturbed in his grave and wish to wander 
about and '^pester'' quiet people. It might have 
been murder, some whispered. Others said : '^Oh ! 
it can't be that! but — who knows?" At any rate 
all '' lowed" there was a mystery back of it all, 
and the questioners' eyes were turned to the son. 
It was his fault, because old Paul had wanted to 
be forgotten, and he had made the grave conspi- 
cuous by placing a wall about it and leaving the 
chimney stand next to it like a monument. 

After a time something happened which through 
a strange coincidence emphasized the ghost story 
and made it more serious and complicated to ex- 
plain away. Since a year or two before the close 
of the war, Sam Hilderbrand had not been seen in 
Bonne Terre. He was said to have made good 
his escape to Canada. But one day, word came 
that he was killed in Madison County and was be- 
ing brought to Bonne Terre for identification and 
burial. In due course the body arrived, and 
hundreds of people came in from all over the 
country to view the remains of the famous bush- 
whacker. Scores declared the corpse to be the 


COMPLICATIONS 


239 


body of Sam Hilderbrand; others shook their 
heads knowingly and said it was not — it couldnT 
possibly be — since they had it from reliable 
sources that Sam was at the moment hunting and 
trapping in the vicinity of Hudson Bay. Silas 
Dade pronounced the dead man to be Sam Hil- 
derbrand — how could he be mistaken? John 
Webb disagreed with Dade. He declared that the 
body could not be that of Hilderbrand. He was 
positive since he knew Sam Hilderbrand and had 
kept him many times when he was being hard 
pressed by pursuers. He didnT care who knew it 
now. Yes, he had sheltered the outlaw, and now 
he^d traveled twenty miles, over rough country, 
from Knob Lick, to see for himself if it was true 
Sam was dead. After a heated discussion be- 
tween Webb and Dade, the majority of the people 
went home satisfied that the man who had terror- 
ized several counties with his rifle “Kill DeviF^ 
was dead and put under ground for ever. 

A fortnight after that excitement, Adolf Birsch 
startled Bonne Terre and the country for miles 
around by asserting that he met Sam Hilderbrand 
face to face, one night, near old Paul’s grave. 
Birsch told his experience as any man would state 
a fact he discovered, simply to settle the question 
as to whether Sam was alive or dead, never dream- 


240 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


ing of the turn it would take in some minds. 
“Then, of course Hilderbrand, is dead, and his 
ghost communes with PauFs” was circulated from 
mouth to ear all over the place. That was the 
missing link — beyond any doubt, Sam and Paul 
had at some time or other been partners in crime. 

This version of the story daily added fuel to the 
flame, and throughout the hills people barred 
their doors at night and kept lights burning, lest 
Paul and Sam should appear. In the past, super- 
stition had secured isolation for PauFs grave, dur- 
ing the night; but now, after the wide notoriety 
given it by the uncanny tale, most people could 
not have been induced to go past it after sun- 
down. 

There was whispered talk of tearing down the 
wall and ordering Frangois out of the community. 
“He^s a Yankee, anyway, what business has he to 
stay here?^’ Dade seized upon the fact that 
Frangois was a Union man to dissuade the silly 
and ignorant people from making any foolish 
move. The old backwoodsman never wavered in 
his allegiance to his old friend’s son, although he 
was not a little puzzled about the occurrence as 
told by Birsch. , 

Said he: “You’ve said it. Frangois’s a Yankee, 
but ye’re forgitin’ he haint an ord’nary one, he’s 


COMPLICATIONS 


241 


an officer, — captain, — an^ no mistake. If you’ns 
want to bring the hull dalgarned Federal gov’ment 
down on our heads, just tinker with Jean Fran- 
cois. Lor’ bless my soul, that wouldn’t be nairy 
greasy spot of me or you’ns left. If any of you’ns 
doubts, just come over to the store an’ read in the 
paper what Ben Butler’s been a-doin’ in New 
Orleans.” 

That was a sufficient hint, so tar and feathers 
were never mentioned again for Frangois, but the 
feeling remained in many a squeezed-up heart, 
and the Captain knew it from the cold shoulders 
turned to him, and the cut of people’s eyes as he 
went about his work. 

For a time prejudice became so strong against 
him that he contemplated leaving the country — 
he was absolutely discouraged. Dade would nev- 
er hear of it, and Basil advised him to remain by 
all means. He told him that no man ever gained 
anything by running away. Frangois overcame 
his fit of despondency and stayed on although his 
friends narrowed down to Silas and Bud, Mrs. 
Bardsdell, her mother and Virginia, and the 
Birsches — particularly Flora, oh! how she did 
fight for him! The Douglases were neutral. 
Adolf Birsch and Donald Douglas were thorough 
business men, not given to sentimentality. ‘^Nice 


242 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


fellow/’ they said ‘^unfortunately, he’s a Yankee.” 

Frangois’s last complication concerned Flora 
Birsch, a girl worthy to be any good man’s wife, 
prettier in the opinion of many than Virginia 
Bardsdell whose beauty though of a more classic 
type lacked the vivacity of expression that Flora’s 
possessed. The difficulty lay in the fact that 
Frangois was conscious of the girl’s love. He 
could not help it, she made it so evident in a 
hundred ways, but with no thought of letting him 
know what was in her heart, and without any 
forwardness, just the buoyancy of a happy spirit 
that does not think of denial as possible. Vir- 
ginia was engaged to Dan, there was no other 
girl to interfere between herself and Frangois, so 
Flora without giving a thought to it rushed on in 
her impetuous way. She managed to be a great 
deal in his company and Virginia who really liked 
the Captain, innocently — at first — helped her 
friend. 

As for her relations with Frangois, they were 
very cordial, in fact most pleasant. Not a week 
passed but that he called at the Bardsdell home. 
He even took an occasional walk with her. These 
occasional walks, however, were rare, and it was 
only when something very unusual kept Flora at 
home that Frangois had the opportunity. Then 


COMPLICATIONS 


243 


he had to reckon with Dan who took up a good 
portion of Virginians time. Still, as it sometimes 
happened, whether by accident or not, Frangois 
and Virginia were out together. They were red- 
letter days in the young man^s calendar, in spite 
of the conversation which, after dealing with some 
book that interested them, invariably hinged on 
Dan. Never did he disturb by a look or a word 
her beautiful trust in the man she loved though 
it pained him very much to remain silent and lis- 
ten to her eulogy of him. Her plans for helping 
him on in the future that seemed so bright for 
such a very young man, were discussed at length. 
But one day, there loomed up in their conversa- 
tion a new topic for discussion. Virginia had dis- 
covered Florals love for Frangois, — ^how she had 
not perceived it sooner was a mystery to her, — at 
the same time she observed that Frangois ap- 
peared to be ignorant of the blessings showered 
upon him, so she lost no time in informing him, as 
she thought, in a very adroit manner. That Fran- 
gois should be in love with herself never entered 
her mind. The Captain, however, eluded all her 
efforts at ^‘cornering him’’ but joined in singing 
Flora’s praise, admitting that she possessed every 
quality of mind and heart a man could wish for. 
Virginia considered this reply as an honest man’s 


244 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


way of expressing his views for the moment, al- 
lowing for future possibilities, so quite satisfied 
she changed the trend of the conversation. 

But Frangois became much concerned over the 
state of affairs. He never could marry Flora 
Birsch, so he said to himself, and deep in his heart 
he was sorely troubled lest he should cause her to 
spoil her life. He tried in every way to lead her 
to recognize the fact that friendship was their only 
base of association, without in any manner betray- 
ing his love for Virginia. Flora was too bright a 
girl not to understand that she was considered 
merely as a friend, but that did not prevent her 
from indulging in the hope that Frangois’s feelings 
could be influenced some day and led into other 
channels; and that his ultimate conquest could be 
achieved, she never doubted. 

Beset on every hand, — under suspicion on ac- 
count of things he could neither help nor explain, 
loved almost to the point of distraction by a girl 
whose love was an open secret among her friends, 
and loving another girl better than he ever 
dreamed a man could love — an impossible love 
because she, in her turn, loved someone else— 
Frangois wandered about seeking inspiration in 
his favorite haunts, the hills, until he came, by 
chance, upon his old friend Basil. 


COMPLICATIONS 


245 


That wise man was not long in discovering that 
Frangois was in trouble. He kindly, but cleverly, 
led the young man to confide in him. 

After some reflection, Basil said: 

^^Go back to the valley, Jean, and — fight on. 
Keep on battling. What would you gain by going 
away? As for Dan Douglas, I see that you are 
not quite satisfied to sacrifice your love to a man 
of his type, but my son, it is not for his sake that 
you are giving up the woman you love, besides as 
you admit she does not love you, there is no sacri- 
fice involved. Suppose Dan is not your ideal of a 
man, do you think for an instant that you would 
ever be quite happy even if he were? Your one 
chance lies not so much in his unworthiness as in 
your intrinsic worth, and if Virginia Bardsdell is 
ever to love you in place of another you must 
stand next to that other and give her an oppor- 
tunity to discover who of her two admirers is the 
better man.’’ 

^^But would that be fair when she is engaged, 
and she — ?” 

'T am not telling you to do anything. If Vir- 
ginia loves Dan Douglas you must accept your 
fate bravely — as you are doing — and it is not for 
you to disillusion his sweetheart. But while there 
is life there is hope. Time may help your cause. 


246 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


All I’d like you to do for yourself is not to give up. 
Set yourself against the wheel, watch your 
feet lest they become entangled in the cogs, and 
trust in God to guide you to some end where you 
may be adjudged a man fair and honorable in all 
things to your fellow-men. Besides your love, 
you have other work to accomplish. Remember 
that it lies with you to dispel the mystery that 
enshrouds your father’s past.” 

Frangois did go back, and throwing himself 
heart and soul in his work, he grew stronger day 
by day. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE ACCIDENT. 

Upon reviving the mining company at the close 
of the war, a new furnace and plant had to be 
erected, also some effort made to extend opera- 
tions. On account of the richness of several poc- 
kets, it was supposed the mines were capable of 
large developments. However, just in the be- 
ginning, the owners were somewhat dismayed to 
find that two of the five best pockets gave out 
suddenly, without leaving so much as a slender 
lead to another deposit. Two more shafts which 
waned in production sent miners off prospecting 
for more pockets. 

The company than began to suspect it might be 
a serious question as to whether or not its hold- 
ings would be stable enough to warrant the In- 
vestment of further capital, and installation of 
more efficient machinery. 

The shaft nearest the mining plant gave promise 
of opening up a large body of ore, so all the com- 
pany's energies were centered for several weeks 


*47 


248 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

upon its exploitation, in order to test the situation 
before bringing down from St. Louis an expert 
mining engineer to report on behalf of a group 
of wealthy men who contemplated forming a new 
company to absorb the holdings of the develop- 
ment undertaking. 

The uncertainty of ore veins had rather dis- 
couraged miners and thinned out the ranks of the 
more competent and experienced body. There- 
fore when it came to working out what was known 
as the Birsch shaft, there was a dearth of expert 
labor. The proving led into difficult rock. As no 
one understood blasting so well as Frangois and 
Birsch, for two weeks they took their places in the 
shaft, among the workmen, and conducted the 
sinking of the shaft with success. 

Instead of cutting offshoots or diverging tun- 
nels, they lit the charges and were drawn up 
quickly by the windlass. This method was to be 
pursued until the hundred-foot level was reached, 
when the cross cuts would be made. Up to that 
time no trouble had been encountered, and, as a 
matter of fact, since most of the blasts were com- 
paratively small, there was no occasion for antici- 
pating the least danger of accidents. The most 
skillful man was Frangois. He had performed 


THE ACCIDENT 


249 


similar tasks in western mining and never made a 
mistake. 

The men were hurrying work to complete sink- 
ing by a certain date, and it came to a Saturday 
afternoon, at two o’clock, with still several feet to 
be sunk. During Frangois’s absence from the 
mill for an hour, it was decided by Mr. Birsch, to 
try a larger charge than usual, so as to facilitate 
the clearing of the bed of tough stone. The first 
charge worked capitally, and the second encour- 
aged the men to increase the charge further. The 
mistake was made, however, of trying three drill 
holes, or charges, at one time, in the eight foot 
bottom. 

While the charges were being tamped in, several 
kegs of powder, more than were really required, 
were lowered in the tub, and placed to one side. 
Birsch or Frangois always superintended the lay- 
ing of the charges, and then sent the drillers up 
and had the tub put down before lighting the fuse. 

On the triple blasts this was to have been the 
proceeding, but when all the men except Birsch 
had gone up, some one noticed Frangois coming, 
and called to Birsch to be drawn up and let Fran- 
gois set off the charges. Birsch came to the sur- 
face at once and waited for Frangois. 

On telling him about the three heavy bolts fixed 


250 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


below for tearing out loads of rock, he reprimand- 
ed the men for taking the risk. He said, though, 
that he would light the fuses if the windlass hands 
would work fast once he jerked the signal rope. 

Frangois was lowered into the shaft, and those 
looking down saw three separate sparks light up 
as he applied the punk. At his signal, the men 
at the windlass turned the squeaking apparatus 
like madmen until he was safely landed. Then 
the timbers were laid across the yawning mouth, 
and everybody ran away. In a few minutes there 
were three distinct growls of deep rumbling in the 
shaft, so close together as to appear simultaneous, 
and the heavy logs over the opening kicked fierce- 
ly from the pelting of pieces of rock underneath. 

The men gathered again about the shaft's 
mouth, jubilant over the success of the experi- 
ment, but Frangois forbade them ever to try more 
than one shot at the time. 

As soon as Frangois felt assured that his advice 
would be heeded, he said he would go down in the 
tub to see whether or not it would be profitable 
to put in another shot before beginning to hoist. 

The men turned the windlass backward until 
the tub rested on the bottom, Frangois having 
tugged at the signal rope for them to stop. In 
another minute a loud explosion was heard, then 


THE ACCIDENT 


251 


a cloud of smoke and dust puffed up from the 
crater! The men fell back astounded. 

Birsch shouted out: 

^Dh! the kegs of powder were left!’’ 

He screamed down through the smoke, but no 
response came up. The men brought up the big 
shaft tub, but it had been reduced to splinters. 

Wildly excited, they ran off for another tub, 
while some bystanders hurriedly brought water. 
Bud Dade took a short course to Dr. Keith’s office. 
As he ran pass the Birsch home, he called out to 
Malinda the awful accident. The colored woman 
dropped the pail of water she’d been drawing from 
the well and she waddled and tumbled to the 
house screaming out for Obediah to run help “pore 
Mars’ Frangois.” 

The alarm soon spread all over the place. The 
explosion had been heard but it was thought to be 
a stronger charge than usual, used for blasting 
purposes. Women left everything and rushed to 
the mines. 

By the time Dr. Keith got to the pit, nearly all 
the immediate inhabitants were gathered in a cir- 
cle about the shaft and the awe-stricken workmen. 

Frangois’s body had been brought up and lay 
on a detached door which had been hastily brought 
for the purpose. 


252 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Dr. Keith knelt beside the improvised stretcher 
to administer first aid. He lifted a limp arm and 
felt the pulse of the sufferer. Then he put his ear 
to the unfortunate man^s heart and listened. 

The people looked on with strained eyes, follow- 
ing his every motion. Finally— it seemed hours 
to Flora Birsch who stood pale and terrified a little 
back of the crowd — ‘^He lives,” he announced to 
the anxious watchers, ‘^and — ^his face is not 
burned.” 

That seemed to be all he could say for the pre- 
sent. Flora leaned on the windlass against which 
she had propped herself, and with blanched face 
she closed her eyes and whispered: “Thank God!” 
Virginia who had just reached the scene of the ac- 
cident rushed up to her friend crying: “Is he badly 
hurt?” 

Flora could not speak. Virginia advanced 
through the crowd but just then the doctor called 
out: 

“Stand back!” 

He hurriedly bandaged the wounded man’s torn 
legs and dressed an ugly wound on his breast. 
Then four men who stood by, waiting for instruc- 
tions — Bud Dade one of the four — at a signal 
from Dr. Keith, picked up the stout batten door 
and carried the sufferer off in the direction of 


THE ACCIDENT 


253 


Dade’s Inn. The crowd made a move to follow, 
but the doctor halted it by saying that no one was 
needed. 

He stopped a minute and appeared to recon- 
sider. After running his eyes over the assembly 
he said : 

“Yes, I’ll probably require assistance — ^women’s 
assistance. Miss Virginia Bardsdell and Miss 
Flora Birsch, would you be kind enough to come 
with me in case I need help?” 

They answered by quickly taking their places 
behind the moving procession. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


A DISCOVERY. 

Such careful attention did Frangois receive from 
Dr. Keith, that two weeks after the accident he 
began to rally from the effects of the terrible in- 
juries he sustained in the explosion. For more 
than one week, the able physician and surgeon 
battled unceasingly for the life of his patient. The 
Captain^s wonderful recuperative powers seconded 
his efforts. Gradually the youthful vigor of the 
crushed man gained ascendency and he began to 
show signs of recovery. By the close of the fort- 
night he was able to speak a few words and take 
some notice of those about him — ^but, in a semi- 
dazed state. He appeared as one awakening from 
a nightmare, and his face, though unscarred, 
showed traces of the acute suffering that had 
racked his body, while yet unconscious. His sur- 
roundings puzzled him. 

The bringing home of Frangois cast more gloom 
over the Dade household. Mrs. Dade at first 
thought it was Bud who had met with an accident 


254 


A DISCOVERY 


255 


and fainted dead away from the effects of the 
shock. Since the loss of her sons in the war, and 
the marrying-off of her daughters who had fol- 
lowed their husbands to distant settlements, all 
her affections had centered in Bud, who had al- 
ways been her favorite besides. To imagine him 
carried in, broken and torn — in a dying condition 
— was too much for her bruised but fond heart. 
It was several days before she could be convinced 
that no harm had befallen her son and that it was 
Frangois alone who was injured. For weeks she 
was confined to her bed and required constant at- 
tention. 

The result of this was that Flora and Virginia 
volunteered to spend some time at the Inn and 
nurse Frangois and Mrs. Dade. Others came and 
helped but returned to their homes. When the 
girls, a few hours after Frangois^s return to con- 
sciousness — Mrs. Dade was also much improved 
— ventured to hint to the doctor that their services 
might no longer be required, he begged them to re- 
main. Being quite young for one of his profes- 
sion, he assured them that he needed just such 
effective assistance as they could render; that in 
Frangois's condition a relapse would be fatal. Flora 
and Virginia willingly consented, both out of un- 
selfish motives — but the former added to her min- 


256 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


istrations little undefinable touches that woman's 
love can inspire. That he might not lack the 
slightest care she was always at hand. 

It was not long before Frangois became strong 
enough to talk. A very few days after he had 
shown unmistakable signs of recovery, he was able 
to explain how the accident at the mines had hap- 
pened — that is as far as he knew. 

‘'When the tub reached the bottom," said he, ‘T 
stepped out, and saw that the three heavy blasts 
had played havoc with the floor and walls of the 
shaft. One huge block of stone from the east wall 
had dropped and stood across the center in a 
careening position. It was well up to my shoulder 
in height, and extended across more than half the 
width of the shaft. I went behind the block to 
push it on its side, lest it should fall on me and 
cause me trouble. I saw no smoke or fire, but 
I was scarcely behind the block when the deafen- 
ing explosion occurred. I seem only to have a 
vague idea that the upheaval took place not quite 
under but a little beyond the large stone. That 
was all I noticed otherwise I should remember.” 

“Were you looking over the stone at the time?” 
asked Dr. Keith. 

“No, I was stooping, trying to get momentum 
to push over the stone.” 


A DISCOVERY 


257 


^That accounts for your face being untouched, 
but of course the shock was there just the same/’ 

^‘Most likely that’s why my face was not 
burned.” 

^‘But how do you explain the explosion and ac- 
cident, Captain Frangois?” again asked the doctor 
who wanted to know whether his patient had dis- 
covered the presence of the surplus powder left 
below — by oversight. 

do not know, Doctor.” 

^^When you descended to fire the three charges, 
did you not see several cans of powder?” 

^‘No, I did not.” 

^Well, there were several extra kegs left after 
the charging of the holes, but it seems no one re- 
members how many.” 

^Then,” said Frangois thoughtfully, ‘^they must 
have been off to one side, covered with stone dust. 
The blasts evidently covered them deep in debris, 
and undoubtedly lighted some surplus fuse, so 
that when I came down it had burned to the 
charge.” 

'^Have you been unconscious all the time you 
lay so still we thought and feared — ?” Flora could 
not finish the sentence. 

‘^Yes; long before I quite realized that some- 
thing had happened to me, I suffered fearfully as 


258 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


if in a dream. It seems that unconscious though 
I must have been, I can look back and remember 
passing through some horrible experience. When 
I knew in the thousandth part of a second that an 
explosion had occurred, immediately I remem- 
bered no more, but throughout my illnes there 
lingered with me a feeling that a terrible noise was 
tearing every nerve in my body. At least this is 
the only way I can express it — though, to be sure, 
I have the impression of an awful chasm or gap. 
But as IVe tried to make clear to you, it is bridged 
by subconscious recollection of the explosion.” 

‘T am sure,” said Flora, ‘That for the greater 
part of the ten days — ” 

“This is likely to lead to an unprofitable pseudo- 
psychological discussion,” suggested Dr. Keith, in- 
clined to use his professional authority to dissuade 
his patient from further mental exertion. 

Virginia came to the rescue; but Flora frowned. 

“It is fortunate. Captain, that your nabit of see- 
ing everything put right caused you to get behind 
that rock — or — ” 

She had not strayed far from the forbidden sub- 
ject, for one second the Doctor looked impatient 
then, 

“That^s right ! ” he cried teasingly, “you Ve given 
me the clue. As Miss Virginia was saying, ‘or 


A DISCOVERY 


259 


your face would have been badly burned^ and dis- 
figurement would have followed, then if ever you 
got into trouble again I would have an awful time 
getting you nurses!^’ 

“Oh! Doctor!^’ cried Flora, “What are you driv- 
ing at?^’ 

The Doctor was smiling; he had succeeded in 
rousing Flora and interesting his patient, although 
judging from Francois’s face he was quite con- 
fused. It was not due so much to the young doc- 
tor’s words as the sly glance he gave the girls. 
Virginia did not seem to mind, but Flora was pink 
to her neck. 

“Anyway,” put in the doctor, “Captain Frangois 
has no cause for complaint, first of all, it was, as 
Miss Virginia said, his habit of doing the right 
thing at the proper time that got him into the pit 
at the critical moment; secondly, he’s had the two 
prettiest girls in the country for nurses — ” 

Virginia looked amused. She understood the 
drift of the clever physician’s frivolous talk. The 
explosion was totally forgotten for the instant. 

“Doctor!” cried Flora, “you’re trying to make 
Captain Frangois believe all you’re saying without 
giving us a chance to put in a word. What about 
yourself? didn’t you stay a whole week at the Inn? 
and what about Uncle Si and Bud Dade? didn’t 


260 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


they do most of the nursing? Virginia and I never 
had a chance to do anything on our own initia- 
tive; we never sat up a single night without you/' 

They were interrupted by a gentle tap on the 
door and Father Duncan came in. The confused 
nurses were glad of a chance to escape, and Doctor 
Keith was quite willing to leave his patient with 
the kind-hearted, earnest priest who during Fran- 
cois’s trying ordeal had called daily and even as- 
sisted in dressing his wounds. So they all ad- 
journed to the front porch. 

Catholicism was a new thing in the community, 
and the girls. Flora and Virginia in common with 
Silas, considered it something mysterious which 
they did not reconcile with the genial priest whom 
they liked in spite of his black robe — a constant 
reminder of his singular practices. 

On leaving the sick man’s room. Father Duncan 
paused a moment on the porch to chat with the 
doctor and the nurses. Virginia and Doctor Keith 
were conversing pleasantly but Flora was standing 
on the steps, her chin up in the air. 

Still, it was not in the girl’s nature to pout long, 
if at all, so the minute Father Duncan stopped, 
she seized the occasion to be agreeable and was at 
his side in a hurry: — 


A DISCOVERY 


261 


^Tather Duncan, is it true Catholics shouldn't 
read novels?” 

Father Duncan was surprised by the suddenness 
of the question but more yet by the look of de- 
fiance she cast at her companions. 

^‘That depends,” he replied quietly, ^'there are 
novels and novels. Certainly Catholics are ex- 
pected to choose their reading but that does not 
necessarily exclude novels.” 

Virginia forgot to answer the doctor’s last ques- 
tion. She was interested in what Flora was say- 
ing, and was glad her sunny disposition was over- 
coming her momentary sullennes. Dr. Keith had 
teased her friend mercilessly on leaving the room, 
in spite of Virginia’s silent appeals. He had even 
hinted that her equal poise had a more soothing 
effect on the patient than Flora’s exuberance of 
spirits with her unexpected spells of despondency, 
however short-lived. All that had been said ma- 
liciously. 

^Well,” said Flora addressing herself to the 
question implied in the priest’s words; ^^as Cap- 
tain Frangois is a Catholic, and I thought I’d like 
to read to him so as not to cause him to talk un- 
necessarily, if there are any special books you can 
recommend, I’d like to take a suggestion from 


262 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


you.’^ The last words were spoken with unusual 
emphasis. 

Flora continued to address herself to the priest 
but looked straight at Doctor Keith: 

think when patients get to be convalescents, 
it is not always good for the doctor to be too at- 
tentive or they become afraid to stand on their 
feet. A little advice fr^m another quarter at such 
a time is most desirable and — ^helpful. 

^‘Let me see then,’’ said Father Duncan, falling 
innocently in the trap, ‘^there can be no objection 
to your reading, let us say — Scott?” 

^That’s it!” cried Virginia, ^Tor we have a com- 
plete set of the Waverley novels!” 

‘T, also, have some novels among my books, and 
should your stock give out, you might come over 
and make your selection.” 

Father Duncan bowed gravely after those words 
and went slowly along the gravel walk. As he 
closed the gate Flora exclaimed: 

^Tt must be terribly lonesome to be a priest, no 
wonder he sometimes looks so solemn.” 

don’t think so,” said Virginia, ^‘he always im- 
presses me as looking so comfortably happy.” 

'^Yes, I suppose you are right. I was just think- 
ing in a general way of their tives of abnegation 
and wondering — l^hen with ^ quick look in the 


A DISCOVERY 


263 


direction of Doctor Keith she cried : think he^s 
a dear! He’ll do first rate, and to say that I 
would never speak to him before — scarcely said 
good-day to him — although I liked him.” 

Then as the doctor seemed to ignore the conver- 
sation that was going on between the girls, Flora 
added mischievously: 

‘What elegant manners Father Duncan has! 
and how well read! if he hadn’t offered us his 
books we would be at a loss to entertain Captain 
FranQois while he is not allowed to raise his voice 
above a whisper!” 

A few minutes later, the three friends — for Doc- 
tor Keith had grown quite fond of the girls — ^were 
chatting gaily in Frangois’s room. The doctor duly 
apologized to Flora and promised to “quit teas- 
ing.” Then she very charmingly requested of 
him permission for her and Virginia to read by 
turns to the Captain. 

This proved to be a source of great pleasure to 
Frangois, and beginning with a few minutes a day 
it finally extended to many hours that helped him 
endure his enforced idleness. Father Duncan’s 
library proved to be an invaluable treasure, so 
much so that Bud Dade began to take a lively in- 
terest in listening to the girls read and asked to 
be admitted into the circle. 


264 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


It happened that during that time Dan Douglas 
was away on business and would only drop in oc- 
casionally. 

Somehow, everyone in the town, the doctor in- 
cluded, acquiesced in turning the Captain over to 
the girls and Bud. Outsiders, however, felt better 
disposed towards him and for the time being they 
did not discuss him in connection with ^^Sam an^ 
Paul”. Most of them said: 

^‘Haint he been havin^ a time of it! But he 
can^t complain of lack of care. Well, he haint our 
class nohow, so let Mr. Dan Douglas an’ his sweet- 
heart an’ Miss Flora look after him, we’d only be 
in the way — though he haint more than us — ^he’s 
been born right here in these hills.” 

The last words were added for the benefit, of 
those who came down from St. Louis and might 
not be quite up on the genealogy of the ‘^hill” 
families, just as if Frangois had not been discussed 
long before the war, and his history made common 
property. 

Along in the latter part of the third month of 
FranQois’s illness, when at last the doctor deemed 
it safe for him to get up and walk across the room 
— two ugly wounds in the chest that healed but 
slowly had retarded his convalescence — Flora ex- 
perienced an awakening that changed her whole 


A DISCOVERY 


265 


life. It came gradually about and in an unex- 
pected way, fraught with trials, and necessitated 
a reconstruction of ideals — not possible earlier in 
her existence. 

In the serene peacefulness of the village, there 
was no society or amusements of any kind — no 
places to visit, no one to receive, so that when 
Captain's accident and subsequent helplessness 
drew Flora and Virginia to his aid, they could 
quite easily give up their time to entertaining and 
comforting the afflicted man. There was no one 
to object, and there was no reason to hesitate as 
Bud and Dan — the latter only occasionally, it is 
true — formed part of the coterie. But in the 
sisterly sharing of the pleasures, Virginia wished 
Flora to enjoy the greater part and watched with 
interest for any indication that the Master of 
Bonne Terre might give of his love for Flora, 
whose charming sprightliness and mischievous, 
fun-making inclinations made her a most cheerful 
body to enliven a man just picking his way back 
to health. 

However, Virginia used the greatest caution in 
endeavoring to render service to her friend. In no 
way did she let Flora suspect she was aware of her 
love for the Captain. No one who was not on the 
lookout for such subtle efforts on the part of Vir- 


266 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


ginia would have suspected her. Even Captain 
Frangois, while uncomfortably conscious of Flora’s 
yearning for him, never thought Virginia was go- 
ing beyond the interest she had once expressed to 
him. 

In his enforced confinement and emaciated 
physical condition, Captain Frangois found it dif- 
ficult to control his feelings towards Virginia. It 
was much easier when he could go about his work, 
or dash into the battle line, but now when all 
buoyant strength had left him, when no mining 
problems occupied his mind and all occupation 
was denied him, to depend day after day, pale and 
helpless, on the illimitable kindness of two beau- 
tiful and lovely women, one of whom loved him 
and the other whom he loved, the unfortunate 
man owned himself nonplussed by fate. 

To old Basil he again unbosomed himself. The 
hermit had heard of the terrible accident, and 
came to see “Capitaine Frangois.” But the only 
comfort Jean got was: ‘^Be patient, my son, time 
will put all things right.” 

Often he would have run away from the charm- 
ing solicitude that permeated the atmosphere of 
his room, had it been possible; and again there 
was about it that hypnotic influence, not unlike 
that drawing magnetism that charms the tiger’s 


A DISCOVERY 


267 


prey, ever inducing him to look on, hoping and 
praying for a hand to lead him away but with Vir- 
ginia following close by. This strange and illogi- 
cal mental exercise went on continually while his 
heart became more insistent each day. 

An unexpected turn in affairs took place. 

The blindness of love may obliterate every- 
thing from a man^s mind except the image of the 
woman he loves, but the intuition of a woman will 
at some time or other take in the situation as it 
stands, especially when it has to do with her in- 
terests. 

Flora admitted to herself that Virginians minis- 
trations to FranQois were welcomed by him in the 
exact measure that hers were, and having once 
realized that much, she somehow found herself 
watching out for some subtle distinction that 
might mark their acceptance, — for instance, the 
fact that she was engaged to someone should make 
itself felt, however little. There was as yet no 
hint of jealousy underlying Florals motive in 
watching, it was simply a thought that had oc- 
curred to her. Wouldn^t it be the most natural 
thing in the world for Frangois to lean just a trifle 
more on the girl whose affections were disengaged 
as she supposed he must believe? It was a most 


268 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


interesting and fascinating study, so Florals mind 
became fixed on the issue. 

When at last the undreamed-of revelation 
flashed upon the impetuous young girl, the mixed 
resentment and jealousy of a normal woman swept 
over her and nearly maddened her. When the 
realization came Flora and Virginia had been 
obeying the doctor's orders by giving the conval- 
escent man his first outing on the nearest hillside. 

This was a walk of less than fifty yards to a rock 
ledge just above the spring. The buds of the hic- 
kory were just opening into big creamy lobes, and 
the mayapple and red percoon were in full bloom 
out of beds of dry oak leaves. The exhilaration 
of the changed and weakened man and his com- 
panions carried them back to the exuberance of 
childhood. After Frangois was made to feel com- 
fortable on a sheepskin carefully spread over a 
bench of stone. Flora made a specialty of gather- 
ing wild snowdrops and showering them at his 
feet. Virginia contrasted the purity of the snow- 
drops by heaping hatfuls of violets before the 
shower of tiny white flowers. Calling to Flora to 
wait a while she rushed off for another supply. 
Suddenly, as Virginia came up the steep incline, 
her cheeks prettily flushed from the exertion of 
stooping to pick the beautiful purple drops, Flora 


A DISCOVERY 


269 


detected in Frangois^s eyes a light and a look of 
yearning, that she would have given worlds to call 
forth, and at the same time her heart seemed to 
shrink and leave a void in its place. She sat on a 
fallen tree near by and watched the silent thoughts 
of the man reveal themselves. Virginia had sat 
at his feet and was weaving a chain with the ten- 
der blossoms. 

A sickening pain now gripped Flora’s heart and 
she became dizzy. She was seized by the impulse 
to hide her pain so she walked rapidly away down 
to the little brook, and there wrestled with her 
feelings. Virginia had missed her and was call- 
ing loudly to her friend. Flora came back half 
way and said she was going home a while as she 
was not feeling well and for them not to worry. 
She would send Bud to help get the Captain back. 
Virginia looked anxious and pleaded with Flora 
to take her home. She had run up to her and was 
endeavoring to know what was the matter. Flora 
just shook her head and showed symptoms of an- 
noyance at Virginia’s insistence, so the latter 
slowly turned back and tried to finish her work. 
There was a long silence — neither Virginia nor the 
captain had seen Flora act so strangely before — 
and they could not but wonder as they watched 


270 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Without waiting for Bud, Virginia and Frangois 
soon afterwards returned to the Inn. The sun 
was shining brightly, but they were conscious of 
feeling that a cloud was casting its shadow over 
their outing. 

As soon as Virginia got the Captain safely at 
his home, she hurried over to Flora’s to ease her 
fears that some fearful illness had stricken her 
dear friend. Mrs. Birsch said that her daughter 
complained of a severe headache. 

''Yes,” Mrs. Birsch admitted, "she appeared 
upset, but I suppose it’s the effect of spring 
weather. Formerly I always gave her medicine 
at this time of the year but now she won’t hear 
of it.” 

"May I see her?” 

"She made me promise not to disturb her under 
any circumstances. She said she would sleep it 
off.” 

At this point Malinda shambled in : 

"Missus Birsch, ah’ze don’t like Miss Flora’s 
eyes. Ah’ze stopped her and begged her take a 
cup o’ tea, an’ sho’ ma’am, she never answered me. 
’Peahs to me she can’t hear good. She jist star’d 
me like one ’o ’em somnamboolists you’ze heerd 
’bout, an’ whin ah runs arter her with the cup in 
my han’ she jist slams the doo’ in my face, like 


A DISCOVERY 


271 


that!’’ and Malinda made a dash at Virginia to 
illustrate her point. 

‘‘Don’t get worried, Malinda, it’s simply a head- 
ache and it will wear off before long.” Mrs, Birsch’s 
finality of tone indicated dismissal to the old cook. 

That was all Virginia could learn, so failing to 
get more satisfactory replies to her anxious ques- 
tions, she went back to her home, disturbed and 
puzzled over Flora’s inexplicable conduct. 

Meanwhile Flora was trying to regain her bear- 
ings. She began by reviewing her past, and was 
surprised to see how uneventful it had been, per- 
sonally. She had taken, it is true, an active part 
in all the doings of the place since she had set 
foot in Bonne Terre, but nothing that happened 
had concerned her more than the other inhabi- 
tants of the little town. There was only one in- 
terest in her life and it centered in Frangois. Her 
father and mother were sedate, verging on stern- 
ness, and had hedged her in with their careful 
kindness until she reached young womanhood. 
Then she had beheld a splendid young giant, and, 
without restraint, had continued in her admira- 
tion until her girlish fancy ripened into an all- 
consuming love which alas! excluded all suspicion 
that love, to be crystalized and perfected, must 
meet an equal response and merge with equal 


272 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


ardor. When she realized that this was denied 
her she tottered and groped for support. 

After a sleepless night, reason reasserted itself, 
and the woman^s instinct warned her that she 
must use the utmost tact in concealing her disap- 
pointment. Accordingly, she arose early, dressed 
with her usual care, and ran over to her friend^s 
home for a little chat before breakfast. She was 
not sure of her feelings towards Virginia, but did 
not stop to analyze them. With the instinct of 
one who has missed her foothold and slipped, she 
was ready to look about for the effect on others 
and quickly get back on her feet. 

The friendship between the girls had been too 
real and unselfish until then to be easily disturbed, 
and its nature was such that it would snap rather 
than submit to adulteration. 

Virginia peered inquiringly into her friend's 
eyes. Flora could not read treachery in that 
frankly innocent gaze and a hint of remorse smote 
her heart; still, how could she confide in her? Vir- 
ginia, noted the pale face and slightly red eyes, 
and tremulous mouth. She was not convinced 
that a mere headache could be responsible for 
them, besides, Flora had always enjoyed perfect 
health; but in the absence of any knowledge or 
even hint of what warred in Flora's bosom, she 
was compelled to accept the explanation given. 


CHAPTER XX. 


A SACRIFICE. 

It was difficult for Flora to face disappointment 
and its consequent humiliation. In her home, 
mother and father gave in to her wishes — to say 
nothing of Malinda and Obediah — and although 
she never abused her power over anyone, the fact 
that everything and everybody was at her beck 
and call had the harmful effect of making her un- 
willing to submit to failure of any kind. As a 
matter of fact, never before had she been thwart- 
ed, and it seemed rather hard that her first ex- 
perience should be of a nature most painful to en- 
dure. On the other hand, her generosity and 
kind-heartedness went a long way toward helping 
her in such an extremity. 

For several days she remained closely in her 
room, trying to arrive at some decision that would 
enable her to bear the ache of heart and gloom 
caused by her discovery. At last she made up her 
mind. Virginia was innocent, that much she knew 
from the first. Moreover, she was engaged to 


273 


274 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Dan Douglas, and consequently had no designs 
upon Captain Francois. Virginia could not even 
be cognizant of the love so silently bestowed up- 
on her. And, — there was a grain of comfort in 
the thought, — Captain Frangois loved Virginia 
just as hopelessly as she loved the captain. Here 
was a chance for the unselfishness of her nature to 
assert itself. For a long time she pondered upon 
the strange complications we are called upon to 
endure or straighten out in life. Dan Douglas, in 
Flora's opinion, treated Virginia shamefully not to 
say with inconsiderate neglect, he wasn't fit to asso- 
ciate with Virginia. Not being blinded through 
love, the glamor that surrounded Dan for a while 
after his return from the army had worn off long 
ago. Why, she reflected, should one so noble and 
true as Virginia, be wasted on an unappreciative 
man? Having reached this point in her cogita- 
tions, the impulsive Flora rushed forward, utter- 
ly forgetful of self in the warmth of championing 
the cause of another. Love and friendship merged 
in the act, and for their sakes,Flora determined she 
would aid Frangois in winning her chum Virginia 
unto himself. In the exhilaration of renuncia- 
tion, she decided to sacrifice her life, if necessary, 
to make him happy. 

In this decision there was no malice against Dan 


A SACRIFICE 


275 


Douglas, no special summing up of his faults and 
deficiencies and weighing them against Frangois’s 
qualities. He stood out in Flora’s mind just 
what she felt him to be, a coolly calculating, un- 
scrupulous young man, intensely selfish, without 
any redeeming virtue, — his good looks only count- 
ed against him, made him dangerous. However, 
it was as a minor character that he stood in the 
girl’s scheme, so with the following reasoning he 
was dismissed from her mind : ^ What can it mat- 
ter to him, since he does not care for Virginia as 
he should?” The one thing to accomplish was to 
bring her friend to recognize the sterling qualities 
of Frangois and prove to her that she was wasting 
herself on an unworthy man instead of returning 
the pure, devoted love of one who was willing to 
sacrifice his own happiness to insure hers. 

Flora wept what she thought would be her last 
bitter tear after baring her heart to God, then she 
consecrated her purpose, and prayed for strength 
to surrender all for the sake of the man she loved 
and for — ^her friend. With the glow of sacrifice in 
her heart, there came, also, quiet solace which 
made her doubly strong. She set about her pur- 
pose without delay. 

That same hour she bounded into Virginia’s 


276 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


room, and throwing her arms about the loving girl 
who was now dearer to her than ever, said : 

^Tirginia, I’m entirely recovered now, and 1 
couldn’t stay away from you any longer.” 

“I’m truly glad you’ve come. How you did 
frighten me, I thought you might be very ill and 
that your mother did not realize it. Malinda, 
also, poor woman, was terrified, she said you acted 
so strangely.” 

“Virginia, I did suffer more than I can tell you. 
However, as it is all over, pray do not let us speak 
of it again.” After a slight hesitation, she added: 
“And how is Captain Frangois?” 

“Oh, dear, he’s very slow about getting well, I 
don’t quite understand it, although we all know 
he’s had a fearful shaking up.” 

“Shall we go to him this afternoon, and gather 
flowers again?” Flora looked straight ahead and 
spoke bravely, “He did seem to enjoy our chil- 
dren’s play so much that day.” 

“Yes, but after you left, he seemed to lose in- 
terest in it. We went home almost immediately.” 

“Then we shall go to him. He will be glad to 
see — us — I’ve no doubt, he’s waiting now.” 

“I do not think so, for he was quite concerned 
about your illness. He fears you are taking 
fever.” 


A SACRIFICE 


277 


^^Obediah’ll go over at once and tell him I’m 
well. And, shall I add that he may expect you 
and me at three o’clock this afternoon?” 

^Tes.” 

Flora saw at that very moment the old colored 
man passing the gate, so he was given the mes- 
sage and was soon trudging down the road to- 
wards the Inn. 

‘^Now, Virginia,” said Flora returning from the 
door, ^^tell me how you’ve been since I was here 
last. There must be something that’s happened. 
Perhaps, some new idea has come into your mind. 
Remember, I’ve not seen you for several days. 
As I look back now, it seems an age.” 

“What makes you ask me such a question? Is 
there anything about me to suggest it?” Then 
after a short pause and a slight trembling of the 
lips, she continued: “You don’t know how I 
missed you! Twice I stopped at your house, but 
Mrs. Birsch told me you were resting.” 

Flora put her arms about her friend once more, 
and Virginia made room for her on the little set- 
tee where she was seated. 

“I’ve been wishing to see you. Flora, because 
I want to confide in you, and I’m so glad you’re 
giving me the chance to do so. Mamma and 
Grandma have just gone for a drive over to the 


278 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


old farm, and we are quite alone — except old 
Jennie, but bless her dear old soul, we could tell 
her our dearest secrets and she’d have a hand cut 
off before she’d tell a single one.” 

^Tt’s just so with Malinda, ever since I was that 
high she’s known all I do, and what I think, or 
don’t tell her, she guesses without ever making a 
mistake. I’m sure Jennie is as faithful as can be, 
or she wouldn’t be Malinda’s sister.” 

“All right,” said Virginia putting on a kiss-me- 
quick bonnet, “then let’s go out-of-doors.” 

“The rustic seat by the rose bushes is the very 
thing. We can sit there and talk, and I defy 
even Jennie and Malinda to hear what we say.” 
Flora’s cheeks were aglow with suppressed ex- 
citement. 

The girls paused as they set foot on the lawn 
and inhaled deeply the aroma of the clover from 
a neighboring field, their heart-beats keeping time 
with the notes of a thrush that sat perched on the 
highest limb of one of the three tall pKDplars by 
the side of the house. Other spring birds sang in 
the squatting cedar trees. The tender blue grass 
made a soft carpet under their feet as they 
tripped along, — ^Virginia intent on her thoughts 
and Flora curiously watching her friend. Watch, 
the old house dog, got up lazily from where he 


A SACRIFICE 


279 


was sunning himself, and trotted behind his young 
mistress. He was disappointed when she sat 
down by Flora, for he had expected to go for a 
walk ; still, he was not quite sure but that this was 
a clever ruse so he stretched at full length, at her 
feet, with half his body on part of her white skirt 
that trailed on the ground, and closed his eyes. 

^‘Now, Virginia,” Flora began while a sense of 
protection made her put an arm around Vir- 
ginians waist, ^Tell me everything. One must 
have someone to talk things over with, and that’s 
what friends are for. We’ve been that since 
we’ve known each other and I think we shall 
always be. Don’t you really believe it?” 

^^No one could shake the confidence I have in 
you. Flora. Well, this is what I want to say: 
as you know, Dan and I have been engaged a long 
time, and of late, as you may have noticed, he’s 
been away a great deal, so much so. Flora, that — 
and I’m so ashamed of myself for it now — I was 
just a bit uneasy and anxious, but I suppose it’s 
because I’m so fond of him, don’t you think that’s 
the reason?” 

Before Flora could frame a reply, Virginia con- 
tinued : 

'^You’ll see for yourself when I tell you oh, how 
foolish I’ve been to worry! While you were ill. 


280 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Dan came over to see me. Think of it, he came 
down on purpose from St. Louis, and he was ever 
so much more affectionate than he’d been in a 
long time. You do not know how he loves me. 
He says that his apparent neglect is all due to 
business; that since Captain Frangois’s accident 
he had so much more to attend to. He has won- 
derful plans which he means to carry out and he 
is sure to succeed, — if you had heard him you 
would be as convinced as I am, for he told me all 
about them. You must know through your 
father that the mines have not done well lately — 
practically all the pockets are played and most of 
the miners have gone away. Yes, recently,” she 
added as Flora’s eye-brows were raised in sur- 
prise, ''and even the fine shaft Captain Frangois 
was hurt in, has proven a failure. Now this is 
the interesting part: Dan says that a clever min- 
ing expert from St. Louis has stated to him in a 
letter that rich lead ore in permanent veins, or 
beds, exists deeper down — it may be very deep — 
and Dan has determined to interest capital in 
undertaking a larger development. He feels cer- 
tain it will turn out a great mine.” Virginia had 
been speaking rapidly, but pausing at times to 
watch the effect of her words on Flora. She 
started again, coloring somewhat: 


A SACRIFICE 


281 


much for business. Then he said/^ she 
stopped and caught up a stray curl and put it back 
in place; she no longer looked at Flora; ‘^that 
when he returns from New York — that’s where 
he’s going to get the money — ” she smoothed the 
folds of her skirt, ^^he and I shall be married.” 

Flora did not speak a word. A look of trium- 
phant joy flashed in her eyes and she thought: 
^^Why meddle at all? When Virginia is married 
then — ” She bit her lips and to hide her emotion 
leaned over and pulled Watch’s ears. 

Virginia, disturbed by her friend’s movements, 
could not help but notice her heightened color. 

^'How well you look. Flora!” then in the joy of 
her happiness she cried: '^And I should hke Cap- 
tain Frangois to see you this minute. Why, you 
just look radiant! The other day when you were 
taken ill he was saying such lovely things about 
your complexion.” 

Then after a second’s thought she added: 

“Oh ! Flora, how I do love you ! To think that 
it’s the news I’ve given you that has cast this 
glow over you. Mamma was saying the other 
day we are more like twin sisters than — ” 

Flora was now sitting bolt upright and looked 
pale. 

Virginia was most anxious. 


282 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


‘T never saw such a change come over one. Do 
you think it can have anything to do with your 
recent headaches?” she asked. 

“DonT worry, Virgie, I just had a little spell — 
yes, of my recent trouble — ^but I assure you it^s 
over. I am quite well again and ready to listen 
to you. When you finish I have something to 
talk over with you.” 

‘^At the beginning of Dan's conversation. Flora, 
I was inclined to persuade him to take me to New 
York with him, to get married just before he left 
here; and he must have guessed my thoughts. 
For, of his own self, he made me see the wisdom 
of waiting until he comes back — I was so glad I 
hadn't spoken. — By that time he's sure the com- 
pany will have all the money it needs to complete 
the work. He's right. However, he made up for 
the disappointment it caused me by planning 
with me little things we wish to do — when we're 
married; some changes in the house, — we've de- 
cided to live here, — and a lot of other things. You 
see we could never discuss them before because 
we never decided when we would be married. It 
may seem strange, but I suppose that's the way 
with most people. As he said when I remarked 
it, — ^What's the use of crossing a bridge before 
you come to it.' This was my first chance to 


A SACRIFICE 


283 


make him understand what I expect of my hus- 
band and he listened to all my prattle, smiling 
occasionally. Do you know that I’d sometimes 
thought he didn’t care, that he would never be 
interested, for instance, in the way I do up my 
hair, in the number of ruffles on my latest dress, 
in the pattern of the carpet? Well, I was mis- 
taken, he is interested, but as he says, few men 
give their opinion on such subjects, but that if I 
wish him to do so, he will be most pains-taking 
in pleasing me. You see what I get for waiting?” 

“I never knew before that Dan — ” but Flora 
stopped short not deeming it wise to criticise, 
and also struggling with opposing sentiments. 

‘^He never did until yesterday, and I don’t mind 
telling you now, but he used to laugh at what he 
called my notions, and I had never done more 
than hint at them for fear of ridicule. Now, it’s 
so different with Captain Frangois, did you ever 
hear anyone say more agreeable things when we 
wear a pretty frock? He doesn’t know the name 
of the material nor a thing about the making-up, 
but the general effect is sure to please him and it 
always makes one feel satisfied to receive some 
sort of acknowledgement from a man of good 
taste. He always says the right thing at the 
right time.” Virginia stopped and blushed. She 


284 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


arose and freed her skirt from Watch’s paws that 
were entangled in the folds. 

Flora made a desperate effort at self-control 
and said: 

^Wirginia, I must speak with you, and you must 
pardon me if I seem rude or indiscreet. It was 
very sweet of you to talk to me as you have done, 
and it somehow gives me the right to relieve my 
mind of a great load. First of all, do you feel 
sure, that I am your friend?” 

Virginia’s brief reply, ^^Why, Flora!” carried 
conviction. 

^Then, may I ask you a question?” 

^'Anything you like.” 

^^Did Dan’s last visit do away with every single 
doubt of him that you could not otherwise but 
entertain during this last year, to say nothing 
of the others before? Are you in the very depths 
of your heart convinced that a man can change 
his disposition so suddenly?” 

''What do you mean?” 

"Virginia, do you think you are entirely satis- 
fied? When you spoke of your ideal husband 
and he spoke of the uselessness of 'crossing a 
bridge’ did that leave no sting in your heart? 
It is very little, it is true, but it shows after all 
what is in the man’s mind. He would do any- 


A SACRIFICE 


285 


thing to get you when the time came but after, 
would he cross and recross the bridge to please 
you? Think well.” 

Virginia repeated, but very feebly: 

^^What do you mean. Flora?” 

“Darling, have you never cried over Dan 
Douglas and — his strange courtship?” 

“Oh, Flora! how can you? How could you 
know it?” Virginia covered her face with her 
hands, “IVe wept myself to sleep many a night — ” 
then her face brightened, “but don’t you imder- 
stand why I’m so happy now? It’s for that very 
reason, because I see happiness ahead of me when 
I had feared disappointment.” 

“I understand, but, dear, does Dan love you as 
he should?” 

“I think you are going too far. Flora — ” tears 
welled up in Virginia’s eyes, “but I don’t mind 
telling you he does.” 

“You see. Flora,” she continued after a while, 
“I know you mean well, but when you speak of 
those other years, you do not realize that I was 
not more than a schoolgirl, in fact, I was engaged 
to Dan before I went to Richmond.” 

The pleading voice in Flora’s heart was stilled 
once more in her self-renunciation, and she 
answered: 


286 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


'T know the whole history of your engage- 
ment. You know the good people of Bonne Terre 
could not possibly remain silent about it, so long 
before I met you I knew all about Virginia Bards- 
dell, then when your mother came she spoke of 
it once or twice. But, I want you to be convinced 
that it is my earnest wish for your happiness and 
all it means that makes me speak as I^m doing — 

*T’m afraid you never liked Dan, what makes 
you be prejudiced against him?’^ 

^Tf I’m prejudiced it is simply because I want 
you to be happy and I have the feeling that he 
is not what he should be.” 

Virginia made a movement to rise. Flora held 
on to her hand. 

thought we were going to discuss the situa- 
tion freely,” and she drew her gently down be- 
side her. 'Tf you will listen to me now I shall 
give you an opportunity to raise Dan in my esti- 
mation. Be patient.” 

A look of resignation stole over Virginia’s face. 
She said: 

“I admitted to you, and it was very unwise in 
me to do so, if not even unfair to Dan, that, in 
the past, I sometimes suspected he did not love 
me as I love him. But Flora, my love for him is 
so great that should there be a slight difference in 


A SACRIFICE 


287 


the degrees of our affections it may be a matter 
of temperament, — a thing he cannot possibly con- 
trol, therefore, why should I not be willing to 
accept him as he is? Some day, he shall learn the 
extent of my love and then — 

^^But what if he never realizes it? I am no 
older than you, Virginia and don’t pretend to be 
wiser, but I assure you I’d be afraid to marry a 
man who did not love me to my satisfaction, or 
as perfectly as I loved him. You may win him 
and I may be wrong, but I’m not convinced and I 
feel that you are not — convinced. You are grop- 
ing about, trying to get hold of something which 
you are not quite sure even exists.” 

‘‘All I have to say, is that I love him.” 

“It is for that very reason you must be cer- 
tain, before-hand, of his love, otherwise you’ll be 
miserable all the rest of your life. And, have you 
never thought that you might wrong him? If 
you marry him on your own love and he does not 
love you he is wronged.” 

“But why would he ask me to marry him unless 
he loved?” 

“A mistaken sense of chivalry. It does not 
always require a man of high ideals or honor to 
imagine he’s got to do a thing because people 
expect it of him.” 


288 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


^Tlora, if I did not have such perfect confidence 
in the purity of your motives, I would not listen 
to you a minute. But as you seem to be so utter- 
ly under a false impression — ” All at once, Vir- 
ginia broke down and her tears fell fast. Flora 
took her in her arms and suggested a walk, but 
Virginia clung to her and between sobs cried out: 

know you are partly right, that is why I^m 
crying. I had not considered it precisely in that 
form, but I was — sometimes afraid he might love 
someone else. Only yesterday, I got new hope.’^ 

Flora relented: 

^Tt may be that I am wrong and that your hope 
may be realized. Do you know what makes me 
think Dan Douglas is not worthy of you? Well, 
first of all because he does not appear to appreci- 
ate you at your full value. He^s a ninny she 
cried exasperated. 

Then as the tears fell faster: 

won’t say another word, Virgie, if you make 
me a promise. I vow I’ll hold my tongue here- 
after.” 

^'What is it?” 

^T’d like you to promise me you will wait un- 
til you are sure Dan Douglas loves you as you 
love him before you commit your future irre- 
trievably into his keeping.” 


A SACRIFICE 


289 


Virginia sat looking far away as if living her 
future in the brief space of a minute. Her bon- 
net had fallen to the ground and neither girls had 
noticed that Watches head rested on it. With a 
start, she made a motion to put it back in place 
thinking it had slipped to the back of her head 
when she discovered it was missing. Flora 
picked it up, and Watch, disturbed in his slum- 
ber, raised his ears in protest ; then he made him- 
self comfortable once more on his mistress’s skirt. 

Flora was giving up all hope of getting a reply 
when the answer came: 

^^I shall. Flora, your request is reasonable. I 
promise you to wait until I’m certain.” 

The girls kissed. A short, rather awkward 
pause followed. 

*‘Now, Virgie, I’ll run home to Mamma. I see 
Malinda signalling for me to come. If you’ll 
stop for me after luncheon, we’ll then go to the 
Captain.” 

Virginia answered listlessly: 

‘T’ll be there on time.” 

Slowly she arose and accompanied her friend 
as far as the gate. For a long time after Flora 
was gone, she stood leaning on the white post, 
dangling her bonnet by the strings. Finally, 
after returning a farewell wave she retraced her 


290 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


steps to the rustic seat. Watch who followed, 
took up his position this time with his bushy head 
resting on her knees. For several minutes the 
faithful animal remained perfectly still, seemingly 
aware that Virginia was not conscious of his 
presence. Then when silent tears fell hot on his 
mistress’s cheeks and trickled down to his nose he 
whined piteously until she stroked his velvety 
ears. 

'Wou dear old Watch!” she whispered, folding 
her plump white arms about his neck and draw- 
ing him to her until she rested her cheek on his 
head, “you know all about my trouble, don’t you. 
If only I could be sure somebody would love me 
as faithfully as you. You are better than Flora, 
Mamma, or even him, for they don’t understand 
and you do. Doggie, you know my way of lov- 
ing, and you know and I know Flora is not alto- 
gether wrong, for I must have in return the same 
sort of love I give to be my own natural self. How 
did she guess my secret, did you tell her? No, I 
know you didn’t or you wouldn’t be my faithful 
Watch. Did Jennie tell? She came into my 
room one night when I was crying. No, no, 
Watchie, she didn’t tell on her ^honey chile’ she 
‘sho didn’t.’ Nobody knows what your poor 
mistress is suffering, not because I promised, but 


A SACRIFICE 


291 


because it was right for me to promise. Do you 
think everything will come right? Do you? 
Well, then help keep my love tender and true — 
for him.’^ 

A deep consoling bark from Watch was equiva- 
lent to saying he understood. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS. 

That afternoon, Captain Frangois impatiently 
awaited the arrival of his friends, Virginia and 
Flora, for there was in the air a balmy sweetness, 
refreshing and exhilarating, which buoyed up the 
convalescent man and made him eager to roam 
through the forest, along paths bordered with 
wild flowers, with chirruping, nestling birds flut- 
tering overhead. Long before the hour set in 
Obediah^s message, he left the Inn and managed 
to walk unassisted a little way, to a large tree 
stump on the roadside, where he sat that he might 
meet the girls all the sooner. Anticipation of the 
outing^s pleasure made the minutes drag. It 
seemed as though Flora and Virginia would never 
come; he wondered what could possibly delay 
them, then glancing at his watch he realized that 
his anxiety made him unreasonable and from his 
perch on the stump he took in the details of life 
in the field across the way. 

Silas and Bud were busy ploughing. He could 

293 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


293 


hear their gees and haws to the horses, and watch 
the fresh furrows of soil they turned up to the 
sun. Flocks of blackbirds strutted behind the 
ploughmen to catch the fat grubworms. A little 
colt followed its mother about, she, being com- 
pelled to work in one of the teams, and now and 
then it chased one of the several hounds halfway 
over the field. 

From his position at the highest point of the 
road, Frangois could also see Mrs. Dade's garden. 
A stooped figure, — Si's faithful helpmeet had lost 
forever her strength and vigor — was occupied 
therein transplanting pinks and other spring 
perennials. While he observed her careful and 
painfully slow movements, an old hen and her 
young brood came through the open gate, and 
quickly began scratching in the pea bed which 
was easily distinguishable with its array of dried 
branches meant as supports for the tender vines. 
Immediately the feeble old lady ran tottering 
along the walk uttering shrill cries of “Shoo, 
shoo — 00 — oo" threatening the while Madam 
Hen with her blue checked apron. There was a 
loud clucking and piping sounds from the tiny 
chicks, and mother and her babies retreated in- 
dignantly, as Mrs. Dade slammed the gate after 
them, coming very near catching the stragglers. 


294 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


This panorama of life in spring occupied but a 
few minutes of Frangois's time, when pleased and 
affected by the domestic simplicity and serenity 
of it all, he turned again to look in the direction 
of Borgy Hill for the first glimpse of his girl 
friends. Once more he consulted his watch. 
There was yet a little time. ''How childish of 
me!” he cried half laughingly, "when I know they 
will come at the proper time!” But he kept his 
eyes on the path at the base of the hill which he 
knew they must turn to come to him. 

"At last!” and Frangois slipped off the stump 
and stood leaning on the stout hickory stick which 
had helped him up the road, watching Flora and 
Virginia as they drew nearer and nearer. Signs 
of the new season were also apparent in their 
attire. Winter cloth dresses had been discarded 
for light white ones and in their belts were slipped 
bunches of long-stemmed jonquils; also, fascinat- 
ors and hoods had given place to pretty lawn 
bonnets. 

Frangois observed them as they walked arm in 
arm, talking most confidentially, and he won- 
dered what they could be saying. He could tell 
by the way they paused and looked at each other 
that something of more than passing interest was 
under discussion, but their voices when they did 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


295 


reach him sounded scarcely over an audible buzz. 
Just before the girls came upon him, a dozen 
yards or so away, he knew that they sighted him 
for they drew their heads closer together and 
seemed to whisper, with an occasional glance in his 
direction betraying that he was the subject of 
some comment. 

In fact, this is what they were saying: 

‘Wirginia, have you noticed that since Cap- 
tain’s illness he seems to be more particular about 
his appearance?” 

^‘Yes, and I think his pallor is even quite be- 
coming. It gives him a look of distinction which 
sets him apart from the men hereabout.” 

“I think he looks so handsome without his 
beard. Hello, Virgie, would you believe he’s 
come out to meet us! I told you he would enjoy 
another outing. See him standing by that 
stump.” 

Virginia laughed merrily: 

'Where do you suppose my eyes are? I’ve 
seen him for the last five minutes. Yes, Flora, I 
think he is better looking without a beard, but 
I’ve seen him look like this before. I met him in 
Richmond, and it made such a change in his ap- 
pearance that it took me quite a while before I 
could remember where I’d see him? I like Cap- 


296 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


tain Frangois’s face very much. I think he has 
such expressive black eyes, but they are rather 
severe.’* 

'Tirgie, I don’t think so, and you wouldn’t if — 
you’d seen him look — as I’ve” Flora was red and 
pale by turns. 

Virginia stopped short in her walk and pulling 
Flora around looked straight in her eyes: 

“Flora,” she cried, “I’m glad to hear you say 
that. Captain Frangois is a most estimable 
gentleman, and Flora, dear,” she whispered, “I 
hope that some day when he asks you to become 
his wife — ” 

“Oh!” quickly put in Flora leaning heavily on 
Virginia, “don’t think of such a thing. I never 
have!” she answered biting her lips and turning 
crimson. “When I spoke of his appearance I had 
reference to his dress more than his physical — 
appearance — I met Bud one day with a large 
package which he said contained some suits Cap- 
tain Frangois had ordered from St. Louis.” All 
the while Flora was endeavoring to extricate her 
hands from Virginia’s grasp. She finally sue-* 
ceeded and walked a few steps ahead of her inno- 
cent tormentress. Virginia was thinking. 

“I shall not mention him to you again in that 
way,” she said as she caught up with Flora and 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


297 


gently drew her arm through hers. Nevertheless, 
she smiled knowingly as she played with the 
flowers at her belt. 

^Tlease, Virgie, hush or he'll hear us!” pleaded 
Flora. 

“And here you are!” Frangois called out a few 
seconds later. “IVe been here quite a long time, 
in the hope that you might have come a little 
sooner, but you are the most exact and precise 
bodies I've ever known.” 

“Why, Captain, if we'd guessed that you felt 
so lonely we would have come sooner, why didn't 
you send word by Obediah?” 

“Now, now! you make me feel quite guilty. 
Miss Flora. No one is more conscious of your 
kind heart than I. It is very good of you and 
Miss Virginia to give up so much of time to an 
idler such as I've been now for months, but I am 
consumed by restlessness. See, over yonder. 
Uncle Si and Bud at work. Even Mrs. Dade has 
been able to overcome her weakness and labors 
among her flowers and chickens. How can I 
thank you enough for your constant companion- 
ship?” 

“Please don't go on that way about it,” and 
Flora looked down confused, “it was silly of me 
to feel badly and spoil your outing the other day.” 


298 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


‘‘Here I am again at fault, you must think me 
very cold-hearted indeed not to have inquired 
about your health. Miss Virginia can tell you 
how anxious we were about you, but this morn- 
ing Obediah quite reassured me on the score. By 
the way, just when I saw his white, kinky head 
bob from around the cedars as I sat on the porch 
this morning I^d been contemplating having Bud 
help me down to the village in search of my two 
nurses.” 

^Then why didnT you?” asked Flora who had 
recovered some of her pertness. 

“Are you really feeling so much stronger that 
you could stand the walk, we might go there in- 
stead of going to the forest.” 

“No thank you. Dr. Keith can take me there 
any day in his buggy, but as for my feeling 
stronger, I know I’m much improved, only I pre- 
fer to follow Uncle Si’s advice and not overtax 
myself for a while yet. I am so anxious to get 
back to work.” 

“Where shall we go this afternoon?” asked Flora. 

“I’ve thought it all out while waiting,” said 
Frangois; “there’s a delightful trail up through 
this glen which is seldom frequented. A few 
paces puts us into the solitudes of a primeval wood 
and yet, the farthest point is not farther than half 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


299 


a mile from here. If we walk slowly — Doctor 
Keith has impressed upon me the necessity for 
not straining my strength — I know I can get there 
safely.” 

‘T^m sure I know the spot,” cried Flora, *T mean 
IVe heard about it.” Turning to Virginia she 
continued: “I heard Mother tell Mrs. Bardsdell 
she knew of a short route to the Inn, and she took 
her through it one day that they both went to see 
Mrs. Dade. When I asked her about it she said 
it was scarcely safe in these times to pass through 
it alone or even with Virginia.” 

“I’m sure she can have no objection to our ac- 
companying Captain Frangois there,” put in Vir- 
ginia in the awkward pause that followed Flora’s 
remark. 

“Of course not, Virgie, Mamma would think it 
quite safe, especially at this hour. She was prob- 
ably afraid we might venture there when we return 
home after dusk, as we sometimes do in winter.” 

“Well, the reason I wanted to take you there, 
listen! I said take you, heretofore you’ve been 
leading me and it is time I should assert my re- 
turning strength and importance as a man!” He 
laughed good-naturedly. “The reason I want you 
to see the place is because of the many dogwood 
trees which must now be in full bloom. You have 


300 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


no idea how they transform the narrow valley in- 
to a fairylike glen.” 

Chatting merrily, the three disappeared through 
the nearby scrub post-oak bush, and Mrs. Dade, 
paused in her gardening to listen to familiar 
laughing voices which seemed quite near although 
she could see no one. They soon died away in the 
distance towards the dense woods. 

The way, indeed, was most exhilarating and cal- 
culated to stir new life in a man who had been 
ill. At times it led across soft, green sward be- 
neath great spreading oaks, then again it threaded 
zigzag, a narrow trail to widen suddenly into a 
broad path over the slightly ascending flat be- 
tween the high hills. Massive trees stretched out 
their branches to shut out the sun, morning, noon, 
and even after ; a soft greenish twilight lighted up 
by emerald stars being the sign of fair weather in 
the outer world. It was so decidedly still within 
those precincts that the words of the joyous party 
fell upon the air loud and clear, and gave Frangois 
and his companions the feeling that they were in 
some remote wilderness where the foot of man 
had never ventured. Yet, every now and then, 
they were brought to realize their nearness fo 
civilization by hearing Bud call out to Nellie: 
‘*Ho, there, get back in that there furrow!” or 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


301 


“Over the traces, ri-ght — 0!” A big fox squirrel 
scurried through the tree tops, and Virginia shud- 
dered and cried “Ugh!” as she grabbed Flora’s 

arm. 

“Look out for spooks! Captain, Virgie’s had 
her warning!” exclaimed Flora. 

When Virginia finally saw the sleek fellow with 
his bushy, arched tail, she clapped hands and 
wished the Captain would catch him for her. What 
would he not have given to satisfy her childlike 
whim! 

Thus they proceeded, nature’s touch transform- 
ing their hearts’ desires for the moment into the 
fantastic wishes of childhood days and recalling 
to each their one-time longing for the reality of 
fairies and genii. 

Captain Frangois diverted the joyous chatter by 
saying: 

“Besides wishing you to see the dogwoods be- 
yond the high ground, there is another reason why 
I wish you to walk here with me. 

“When I was a small boy, my father preferred 
me to be alone rather than play with the few 
children then inhabiting these parts. Being the 
only child at home, I was often lonesome, so I 
roamed about the woods and hills seeking the 
prettiest spots in which to spend my long summer 


302 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


days. In wandering thus I discovered this walk. 
It struck my fancy. On yonder knoll, above the 
path, I built my playhouse. I shouldnT be sur- 
prised to find it intact, as this place is so little 
frequented. When a few minutes ago, you spoke 
of your mothers coming this way to go to Mrs. 
Dade’s I confess, I thought, and I’m still inclined 
to think, you may be mistaken as to this being 
the same spot or walk. At any rate, no one ever 
disturbed me here. Even after I became older 
and began playing with the Dade boys I refrained 
from taking them to see my playhouse, principally 
because I was afraid they would laugh at me for 
being what they would call, like a girl. So, you 
are the first to be taken into this sanctuary of my 
childhood.” 

^'How do you know Virginia and I won’t come 
every day and sew doll dresses in it?” 

''Captain Frangois!” cried Virginia, "I think it 
would show our appreciation of your original 
tastes. We might occasionally ask you to tea.” 

"And I’d be delighted to come. You may use 
it for any purpose you like.” 

Laughing and joking like children off for an af- 
ternoon, they walked on under the trees imtil they 
came to the rise to which Captain Frangois had 
referred. At that point, they ascended a sharp 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


303 


incline, using the roots of a large oak for steps, and 
came out on a curious looking little plateau, not 
more than a dozen yards square, shaded about by 
dwarf cedars. Frangois declared it was by the 
merest accident that he had discovered the place, 
since from the path, twenty feet below, the plateau 
which was surrounded by trees, looked like an 
isolated cedar glade rising above two fallen mon- 
archs of the forest. Anyway, he found it by 
chasing a young rabbit up the stairway formed by 
the old tree. Later on he carried large stones to 
the plateau, erected low walls about a space, and 
constructed seats within. The whole interior, 
walls and seats, were carefully plastered over with 
a thick coating of earth and finished off by an up- 
holstering of beautiful mosses. Many days were 
consumed in the task, but the labor was amply 
rewarded by the production of a playhouse that 
endured through the changes of seasons. 

Virginia climbed on one of the seats and sur- 
veyed the surroundings. 

“What a strategic point. Captain, you must 
always have had the soldier's instinct. Do you 
know that one can sit right here and see perfectly 
all who pass in the path below, and himself remain 
unobserved? Why the whole country below is at 
your mercy!" 


304 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


“Of course when I spoke of this place being 
secluded I had reference to this plateau or else the 
path below would not exist — although very few 
about here know anything about it — . You have 
no idea how I enjoyed myself here, — watching 
people going along the walk, and very often 
shooting deer from the very seat on which you are 
standing.” 

“Why didn't you call it your fort instead of 
your playhouse?” asked Flora. 

“Really it does seem more like a fort. Do tell 
us about the shooting,” and Virginia got down 
from her perched position and seated herself on 
the soft mossy bench. The others did likewise, 
the two girls assuming a listening attitude. 

“There is very little to tell. That large boulder 
by the path happens to mark what is known 
among hunters as a deer crossing.” 

“What's that?” asked Flora. 

“A deer crossing? Well, that's a place at which 
the deer always cross in going for water or in 
changing from one grazing ground to another. Old 
deer stalkers discover these crossings, and erect 
platforms in trees — just a few planks nailed to the 
branches — where they go and wait for the deer to 
come along. Such an ambush is called a deer 
stand. In playing about this knoll, I found out 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


305 


the habits of the wily buck and his drove, and 
many a one did I pick off with my rifle. I think I 
must have killed ten or eleven, and for a young- 
ster that was thought wonderful. However, very 
little did I care about what people thought of me, 
it made my playhouse intensely interesting.’’ 

^^You mean your fort,” persisted Flora. “But 
how did you contrive to keep the place a secret 
from everyone. Such a unique spot!” 

“Do you mean you never told your mother?” 
asked Virginia. 

“I told her after a few years, when I was just 
turning fifteen.” 

“I’m so glad. Then you brought her to see it — 
your combination of fort and deer stand?” 

“No, Miss Flora, and I’m very sorry now. For 
here except when I was a child playing about with 
Mother, I spent the pleasantest days of my young 
life. Somehow, she was generally too busy to 
accompany me, then, I went away shortly after 
telling her.” 

“Did you never want to come back to it?” asked 
Flora. 

“I became too busy with other things, and it 
was ten years before I returned. Miss Virginia 
knows my history; she may tell you about it some 
day. This is my first visit since I’ve come back 


306 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


and I find the spot practically the same as when 
I left 

Something in the tone of Frangois’s voice had 
seemed to Flora to indicate that he did not wish 
to be pressed to say any more about the past, so 
very tactfully she refrained from insisting, and 
pointed out objects that interested her. As she 
turned her head to see what lay in the direction 
back of her, she caught a glimpse of the flowering 
dogwood trees through the network of the inter- 
vening cedar and oak branches. Nothing would 
keep her back and leaving Virginia with Frangois 
she flew down the root stairway and ran down the 
path to the point where she could see the valley 
beyond converted into a snow bank with its hun- 
dreds of blossoming trees standing out in bold re- 
lief against the background of various hues of 
green surmounted by the barren rocky crest of 
Dry Bones. 

When she returned with the firm intention of 
dragging her companions, if necessary, to view 
this scene of surpassing charm, talking volubly 
all the while as soon as she could make herself 
distinctly heard, she was astounded by the strange 
lack of response her exclamations aroused in Fran- 
gois. 

'WeT see it later,” he said. 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


307 


No one spoke for several minutes. Frangois 
seemed absorbed in thought; Virginia, probably 
pondered over some remark he had made while 
alone with him ; and Flora looked from one to the 
other in amazement. 

Frangois showed plainly that he was far from 
having recovered his normal strength. During 
his meditation his hands were used in helping him 
prop himself up and his lips twitched as if he 
were in the grip of some strong emotion that he 
was unable to cope with. At last he spoke but in 
a low, subdued voice, very different in quality 
from the merry tones that rang out but a short 
while before. 

“Miss Flora, and you. Miss Virginia, you have 
both been so kind to me that I feel you will listen 
to me and allow me to unburden my heart to you. 
Miss Virginia was a child when I went away, years 
ago, and could not possibly remember me, but,^^ 
and he looked straight at her, “you were, perhaps, 
present at my father's and mother's strange burial, 
and have since then heard the people's version of 
it, as you must have heard the rumors also afloat 
about our connection with some secret crime in 
Paul Frangois's past life. That it has had no 
effect on you and Miss Flora I have sufficient 
proof in the loyalty of your friendship, still, I feel 


308 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


I owe it to myself to explain what I know of the 
whole affair. Will you give me your attention for 
half an hour?^' 

The girls bowed their heads in acknowledge- 
ment of the permission silently given. 

Very simply, Frangois told about his home life. 
He touched upon the devotion and goodness of his 
father and mother, — his father although strict to 
the verge of harshness was the soul of honor. Then 
he spoke of the trials that had attended his youth 
on account of his misunderstanding his father^s 
ideals. ^^Once,^^ he said, and his face contracted, 
“I’m not quite sure I should mention this, but I 
hope you will not misconstrue my motive, there 
came here a person, a lady I have met since, and 
that is what puzzles me more than I can possibly 
explain. She called on my father, for what pur- 
pose I cannot say, only I know that my boyish 
ignorance at the time saw fit to criticize her — I 
imagined she wanted to win my father away from 
my mother — and my anger knew no bounds. Now 
I see that my father acted honorably for I can 
understand better to-day the conversation that 
took place between them, and that I accidently 
overheard. But on account of this — my having 
overheard them — my father beat me unmercifully. 
I think it was because he was enraged that the 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


309 


people aboi>t should interpret his conduct as dis- 
honorable, so he worked off his spite on me with 
the result that I left home at the age of fifteen.” 

“And do you mean to say that you have seen 
that person recently?” asked the irrepressible 
Flora. 

“Yes,” said Francois, “but that makes very little 
difference. All I care about is that my father is 
absolutely guiltless of any crime. I think it use- 
less to appeal to the person in question, she does 
no seem responsible, although I could possibly ob- 
tain from her a clue to the thing that embittered 
my father’s life. Understand well, there is some- 
thing in his past that I can not explain, but that 
it is nothing criminal, I am positive. It’s proba- 
bly some great sorrow due to disappointment. 

“I am certain of it when I recall what took 
place the afternoon before I left home. If I speak 
of it, it is without anger or bitterness in my heart: 
It was a little after midday, and Mother who had 
put away the dinner things, joined father and me 
near the front door of our cabin where we were at 
work mending an old windlass chain. She sat a 
little apart from us, facing me, and her fingers 
plied long steel knitting needles most industrious- 
ly, row after row adding themselves to the heavy 
brown woolen sock more than half finished. I re- 


310 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


member well, for every once in a while I stole a 
glance in her direction and several times caught 
her blue eyes fixed sadly on me. I studied the 
lines on her face and noted with a tightening at 
my heart that she must be well on in years — past 
fifty. I became fidgety and let go the end of the 
chain I was supporting for Father. His coal black 
eyes pierced through mine, then I hung my head, 
and he turned to Mother to try discover the cause 
of my absentmindedness. I do not know if he 
caught one of her sad glances and misinterpreted 
it. I had no time to realize anything. As if seized 
with a sudden mania, he took hold of me by the 
arms and beat me until I thought I would die. I 
heard Mother sob and saw her gray head bend 
low, then in an instant her dark homespun gown 
fluttered past me and I saw her no more — that 
night when she called her boy as she must have 
done, he was miles away. When I thought Father 
had finished and I was watching my chance to get 
off, he glared at me in such a manner as I shall 
never forget and said: 'Tell me all you know,' after 
I repeated as nearly as I could what I had heard, 
he beat me again to make me acknowledge all the 
conversation that took place. I had missed part 
of it. 'Tell me,' he cried ready to strike again, 
but his hand fell to his side while he continued in 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


311 


an even more threatening voice : T declare I have 
done no wrong. This woman — nor any other, no 
not a living being have I harmed. If I^m here 
to-day, groveling among backwoodsmen and trying 
to make a man of you while I slave to sustain life, 
it is because of what IVe done, the good IVe done 
others. If anyone ever accuses your father of dis- 
honest dealings, strike him dead, I say.’ ” 

Frangois stopped and looked about him with 
wide open eyes, as if surprised at finding himself 
anywhere but at the front door of the old cabin, so 
vividly had the last scene of his home life reim- 
pressed itself upon his mind while recounting its 
least details. Flora and Virginia kept their eyes 
fixed on some point among the trees and did not 
move. 

In a slightly relieved voice. Captain Frangois 
continued : 

^That I was all in all to him, I have no doubt, 
but his affection took a peculiar form. In his 
earnest efforts to bring out the best in me, to 
‘make a man’ of me he was often cruel. However, 
I believe in him, and I’m ready to defend his 
honor with my life at any time. I could not un- 
derstand in those days, and preferred to make a 
man of myself all on my own, but it was that I 


312 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


might return and receive his blessing and my 
mother's embrace. 

“After years I came back. I shall not speak of 
my travels, I've done so before at various times." 

Thus he ended abruptly his history. What hap- 
pened on his return was known to both girls, but 
more especially to Virginia. 

The tale told, a pause followed, in which it 
seemed beyond the power of either of the girls to 
speak. The insight the narrative had given into 
the home life of Frangois seemed to impress them 
curiously. 

At last, Flora leaned over quite far over the 
parapet of the wall and strained her eyes down the 
path. 

“Why," she said in an astonished voice, “I de- 
clare if that doesn't look like the form of Mrs. 
Douglas coming up this way!" 

Virginia peered over her friend's shoulder: 

“Nobody else but the old lady herself! — Ther- 
esa, as she prefers to be called." 

“Theresa!" cried Frangois, “I did not know she 
was called Theresa," but the girls were not listen- 
ing to him. “And still I did know, too, only I'd 
forgotten." 

He was more astonished than either of the girls. 
As he looked, many things ran through his mind ; 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


313 


namely, his suspicions of Douglas and his son, and 
his putting off quizzing the old man to discover if 
he knew his father,also the coincidence that Doug- 
las’s wife and his father’s visitor of many years 
ago were one and the same. He felt himself be- 
come faint, as he thought : ^ What have I done to 
clear my father’s name?” 

Quickly recovering himself, he requested Flora 
and Virginia to sit down and stop talking. It was 
necessary to stand in order to see, he reminded 
them. There were many portholes between the 
cedar branches. 

On and on Theresa came, looking so intently up 
the path that the trio might have remained stand- 
ing in the open wood without being observed by 
her. In fact, so strained was Theresa’s stare that 
all three turned to see what could be attracting 
such dose attention. They saw nothing at the 
moment, but after looking at each other for a 
minute, they seemed by tacit agreement to decide 
on the same course, which was to watch Theresa. 
The old lady appeared to know exactly what she 
was doing, and that she had timed her walk at the 
proper time the three watchers in nature’s turret 
were now quite convinced: Dan Douglas came 
rapidly in sight, riding as if bent on an errand of 
life and death. 


314 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


‘‘OhoT^ nearly gasped Flora, ^^WhaFs this?” She 
spoke the last in a stage whisper. 

Francois’s ^^Sh — ” hushed her. 

Virginia stood motionless. 

By that time Theresa stood in the path just op- 
posite them, and Dan who came up, seemed sur- 
prised beyond words at finding his mother there. 

'Theresa!” he called to her as he was obliged to 
stop to keep from knocking her down — there was 
no room for him to pass. 

"Will you never call me Mother?” asked the 
feeble woman pleadingly. 

"No,” he replied harshly. 

"And, why, Dan?” 

"Because you’ve disgraced Father and me. But 
we can’t discuss that now. It’s usless to discuss it 
at all, at any time. Why do you persist in stay- 
ing about here? to play on public sympathy? That 
might do very well with Flora Birsch and her 
mother but not with us. Trying to cast suspicion 
on us in Birsch’s mind? He’s too much of a busi- 
ness man not to know on which side his bread’s 
buttered. He’ll get his wife and daughter to put 
you out of his home some day.” 

Theresa seemed to be writhing under her son’s 
abuse. 

"Hasn’t Father provided for you handsomely? 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


315 


YouVe spoiled his life, now you want to spoil 
mine. IVe had a time explaining you off to Vir- 
ginia and her mother without laying you too low.’^ 

‘^Dan,” she screamed, ^^You do not know what 
you are saying. Her shrill voice rang through 
the woods. 

*Then why do you persist in staying about 
here? It’s a wonder to me people don’t talk 
about you more than they do. I supposed they 
believe Father’s story, — incompatability, high 
temper, by the way I’ve heard something of the 
last.” 

^Tlease, Dan, just tliis once listen to me, your 
mother?” 

“No, I won’t and I can’t — ^but how in the devil 
did you get here?” 

“I found out you’d gone to see the workmen in 
the valley, and you were coming this way because 
you didn’t want to be seen in the village. Besides, 
you’re leaving to-night for New York, and — it is 
not to plead for myself I’ve come here, — it’s — to 
save you, Dan, my son.” 

“Save me! — you’re out of your mind. When 
there’ll be any saving I’ll do it myself. Begone! 
Let me pass, I say!” With that he rushed by and 
his horse clattered down towards the valley. 

A deathlike silence reigned in the turret for a 


316 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


while. Virginia had stretched out her hands and 
was scarcely aware that Captain FranQois had 
seized one and held it clasped in both of his. She 
was deathly pale and leaned on Flora who had 
thrown an arm protectingly about her. On the 
path not a sound was to be heard. Flora looked 
back and shuddered, she pulled Frangois by the 
sleeve and motioned for him to look. 

Theresa had swooned away on the ground. 

“We must go to her help,” he whispered, but 
as Virginia did not move, he still held on to her 
hand. Frangois and Flora looked down upon the 
heap of clothing, fascinated. They could not see 
Theresa’s face and it looked as if she had flown 
away bodily and left her garments behind. Vir- 
ginia did not seem to realize that anything unusu- 
al was happening at the moment. She was 
stunned. 

Just as Flora sought to disengage herself from 
her, and the Captain had finally turned to go to 
the old lady’s assistance, quite forgetful of his 
own weakened condition, a face, white and tear- 
stained raised itself from the ground and the worn 
figure sought to get on her knees, all the time her 
lips moved as if in prayer. 

Then she cried aloud in anguish. Her voice. 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


317 


as it rang through the woods sounded guttural and 
unnatural: 

'^Oh ! that I were not a curse upon earth ! I say 
nothing of my woes, but I see my sin, and my 
husband’s revived in our son. Greed is driving 
him. As for me, I ruined the life of the man who 
loved me, causing him to hide in these hills, and — 
when I sought him, he drove me from him like a 
thing of evil.” 

She rocked to and fro and continued in a lower 
voice: 

‘Woe is the day of my birth when my own son 
scorns me ! If only the harm I’ve done or allowed 
could stop here, but my son is bent on ruining the 
son of Paul; and when I appeal to him he refuses 
to listen to me, his mother! To him I am Ther- 
esa, the woman! yes the woman brought low by 
humiliation. Here I groveled at his feet in the 
dust and he spumed me! My son, my son Dan, 
how could you speak thus to me? It seems that 
my first mistake cursed all, and now the curse fol- 
lows up descendants — works in a circle — and 
swishes over me in each round with a terrible hiss. 
Ah! I’m altogether undone. But, my son, how 
can you deceive him, the man who trusts you? 
May God who has chastised me so severely, stop 
you in time and cause you to repent!” 


318 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


At first, it seemed that the shrill voice shrieking 
through the woods must belong to another than 
the frail, bent creature kneeling in the path. 
Gradually her voice weakened, and the last words 
she spoke sounded in her natural voice. Except 
for their deep significance she might have been 
supposed to speak to herself, so little did she seem 
excited. 

To the great surprise of Frangois and his two 
companions she arose without any effort and re- 
traced her steps. The trio remained speechless 
as they watched Theresa stoop by the roadside 
and pluck some wild flowers, arranging them with 
taste. Flora who generally found something to 
say, even at the most critical moments was stric- 
ken dumb; to her the old lady’s outbreak was no 
worse than the one that had frightened her and 
Mrs. Birsch, — was she really accountable for her 
acts? But it was the suddenness of it all that up- 
set her, and Dan’s cruelty appalled her. Virginia 
looked painfully humiliated and helplessly looked 
from one to the other, pale and rigid. 

Flora could stand it no longer. 

'^Virgie, I never told you, but Mrs. Douglas is 
subject to those sorts of fits.” 

Virginia made a desperate effort and turned to 
Frangois: 


A VOICE IN THE WOODS 


319 


^'You must not consider me and my feelings. 
Send at once for Mr. Douglas and demand an ex- 
planation.^' 


CHAPTER XXII. 


TROUBLED WATERS. 

FRANgois, Virginia, and Flora arose from the 
little playhouse and descended to the path. Like 
joyous children they had come — troubled adults 
they returned to the Inn. 

On the way they talked of the incident and 
agreed to say nothing. Captain Frangois, as soon 
as his health would permit, was to investigate the 
matter and ascertain once for all whether or not 
Theresa’s implied accusation was founded on fact 
or existed only in her excited mind. That satisfied 
Virginia and Flora. Purposely they refrained 
from discussing Dan’s conduct, but it left a sting 
in Virginia’s heart, which even her friend’s devo- 
tion could not remove. 

They were destined to feel again, before reach- 
ing the Inn, the power of some intangible force 
which drew them out of the ordinary channel of 
life, into a back stream whose waters, troubled and 
murky, were to try sorely those who struggled in 
its eddies. Captain Frangois sustained the first 
shock. 


320 


TROUBLED WATERS 


321 


He complained of sharp pains in his chest, and 
the last hundred yards of the walk that led to 
Dade^s home were made very slowly while he 
leaned heavily on Virginia and Flora for support. 

Dr. Keith was summoned and his verdict 
alarmed the captain's friends. The physician 
questioned the girls to discover if any undue ex- 
citement, or accident, such as slipping, might not 
be responsible for the relapse. Then as they re- 
mained silent, he declared the walk and climbing 
had proved too much of a strain on his recently 
healed wounds. 

Everything that could possibly be done was at- 
tempted to stay the pursuing hand that insisted 
upon smiting the unfortunate man, but it was all 
in vain. Fever attacked him furiously, and he 
fell in an unconscious state once more. Dr. Keith 
remained at his side during the night, studying 
every heart beat. Virginia and Flora and their 
mothers assisted old Silas in nursing him, while 
Bud rode off to St. Mary's on an errand for the 
doctor. 

Beyond admitting that they walked through the 
glen as far as the valley, the girls said nothing. 
But, as they passed each other in the wide, still 
halls, and whispered about the thing requiring im- 
mediate attention, they searched one another's 


322 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


face as if for permission to tell what had really 
taken place. But the feeling that it concerned 
Captain Frangois more than themselves sealed 
their lips. 

That same evening news came to the Inn that 
Dan, who had just arrived in Bonne Terre a day 
or so before, was leaving for New York. ‘Tt 
seems that he wasn’t quite pleased at not finding 
you home,” Mrs. Bardsdell said to Virginia when 
she arrived at the Inn. '‘He says he saw you help- 
ing Captain Frangois walk, and that it’s high time 
he should be getting along without your assis- 
tance. I’m sure, however, that he will not leave 
without seeing you.” 

“I care very little about what he thinks,” replied 
her daughter. “If he does not wish to come, he’s 
welcome to go.” 

Mrs. Bardsdell looked astounded, but Virginia 
walked away quickly without explanation. 

Later, Dan called. 

Virginia received him on the porch. She spoke 
very coldly and indifferently of his proposed trip, 
and there was something in her face that un- 
nerved him so, that he refrained from pressing her 
to confide in him. Besides, since his return, ex- 
cept on the occasion that gave rise to the conver- 
sation between Virginia and Flora, he was gener- 


TROUBLED WATERS 


323 


ally too engrossed in his own pleasures to consult 
her whims, as he called her wishes or fancies. 

“Do you mean that you’re going to stay here 
indefinitely again?” asked Dan. 

Virginia raised a warning finger. 

“Sh — ” and she led the way to the gate. 

“I suppose your mother told you I’m leaving 
to-night. I shall be very busy, so you mustn’t 
expect many letters. When I — ” 

“Are you leaving now?” she interrupted. 

“Yes.” 

“Then I think I’ll walk down a piece with you. 
Dan,” her voice softened perceptibly, “There is 
much I would like to say to you, much that I 
should have discussed with you before; for in- 
stance, your relations with — ” 

“Virginia, I have no time now. When I return 
we’ll see about that. I suppose it’s only some- 
thing about the house — our house. I have more 
pressing business on hand now.” 

Virginia’s heart was racked by contending emo- 
tions. One minute doubts gave way to love and 
she hoped that her influence over him might teach 
him to respect, at least, his mother’s claim. She 
had never interfered in any way, — never hinted 
at anything that showed she was interested in 
Theresa’s association with him. Now she blamed 


324 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


herself for it. Frangois was able to look out for 
himself. He had not put much faith in the old 
lady’s words, but it was Dan’s harsh treatment of 
the feeble creature that clutched her heart. 

^Tt won’t take long, Dan. You see, now that 
we are to be married soon, I should like us to have 
some understanding about your mother.” 

Dan turned on her angrily ; ^Tf that is what you 
would discuss now, Virginia, I’ll say good-bye at 
once. I thought you were interested in the busi- 
ness, so I took the trouble to explain it you ; as to 
my family affairs you just keep out of them. I’m 
going, go nurse your patient. I’m sick and tired 
of the whole lot of such as he.” With that he 
untied his horse and was soon galloping away. 

Virginia walked back to the house, saying: 
don’t know his New York address, I wonder if I 
could get it from his father.” 

The next morning Dr. Keith eased the taut 
feeling of the household: Frangois showed a 
slight improvement. He could not tell if it would 
continue, but there was a chance, and perhaps 
with good nursing a miracle might be performed. 

Virginia and Flora talked often together in the 
anxious days that followed the ushering of the 
prostrate man into another long drawn-out strug- 
gle for his life, but they confided in no one, not 


TROUBLED WATERS 


325 


even the doctor when he was in the habit of shak- 
ing his head and murmuring: ^^Seems to me he 
must have had a severe mental shock. Could it 
be that he’s in love with one of the girls? Then 
it must be the wrong one.” The latter thoughts 
about being in love were kept to himself, and 
he no longer jollied Flora about the Captain, but 
instead followed Virginia with his eyes when she 
ministered to the sick man. 

Flora gave her friend the details of Mrs. Dou- 
glas’s coming to Bonne Terre and said that while 
they had been much annoyed at first, — she and 
her mother, — they had eventually accepted the 
old lady as an additional member of the house- 
hold. Virginia reproached herself, more than 
ever, for not having insisted on Dan’s making his 
mother’s position clear when he returned from the 
war. 

The two girls looked on as helpless spectators, 
also, while other minor events transpired one by 
one. The few remaining pockets shut down, and 
several families left the little mining town ; others 
declared they saw the ^^ghost” at Paul’s grave, and 
a fire broke out among the workmen’s cottages. 

Dade shook his head as he contemplated the 
gloomy future ahead and said: “No man knoweth 
what the morrow fetcheth forth, that’s dead sar- 


326 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


tain, but me name haint Si Dade if Bonne Terre 
an’ all the folk haint got a hell of a time cornin’ to 
them. ’Pears like we’uns have upset a potful of 
evil luck. There might be good in the bottom for 
us critters in the end, but, howamsoiver, it’s a long 
time getting to the bottom, — an’ I says the end 
haint yet come.” 

And it was even so. Calamity falls heavily upon 
small communities ; the people feel the sting of its 
thongs more keenly than do dwellers in large cities 
because everyone knows of the woes of everybody 
else. 

Yet, in every village or hamlet there is at least 
one who sees through the darkest cloud and pre- 
dicts better things, if only through a spirit of 
contradiction. At this time the one who came 
forward was the one we would least expect after 
the shock she received. Virginia, assisted by her 
admiring friend Flora, was indefatigable in her 
attempts at maintaining a cheerful spirit about 
the Inn. Father Duncan was also invaluable dur- 
ing that period. Virginia, for some time, stunned 
by the hint of Dan’s duplicity and his very real 
cruelty to a helpless woman with the greatest of 
claims upon his consideration, moped with the 
others, including Flora, who at times found her 
trials very heavy; but, as is always the case with 


TROUBLED WATERS 


327 


generous natures, her heartaches made her sympa- 
thize with the sufferings of those about her, and 
she threw herself bravely in their midst, the op- 
timist of the group, despite the gloom which hung 
over her own future. 

At last. Captain Frangois improved to the point 
where Doctor Keith permitted him to sit up again, 
and the occasion was befittingly celebrated by Vir- 
ginia and Flora. The latter, in her present state 
of mind and attitude towards Frangois was more 
of a comfort to him than formerly. He discov- 
ered the change one day when after reading to him 
for a while. Bud Dade came into the room and 
asked Flora to accompany him to the village. Pre- 
viously, not even the Doctor^s thinly veiled teaz- 
ing could have induced her to leave* him, although 
she seemed ready enough to run away from his 
searching eyes. 

Mrs. Douglas left the Birsches shortly after the 
Captain^s illness. She seemed wonderfully rejuv- 
enated as if buoyed up by sudden hope, and as 
Dade watched her get into the buggy that was to 
convey her to the railway, he exclaimed to him- 
self: 

“She haint lost none of her pert ways, nohow, 
an’ she haint a badlooker, no she haint ! I wonder 
why old Douglas holds against her so spitefully. 


328 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


he must keep his eyes fixed tuther way when she 
comes prancing along, sort of like a horse’s fancy 
steps.” ' 

Flora told Virginia about her going and said she 
thought after all the old lady had done enough 
mischief, even if she was not such a bad sort, but 
that Bonne Terre could get along very well with- 
out her. 

A letter from Donald Douglas to Adolf Birsch 
cast a very real gleam of light on the situation at 
Bonne Terre. Flora’s father announced to the 
inhabitants that Mr. Douglas gave well-founded 
hopes that great sums of money would be raised 
to develop the mines. The securing of the neces- 
sary capital became the general theme for a num- 
ber of conjectures and all the members of the 
small community warmed up on the subject. Vir- 
ginia, reserving in her mind a possibility that after 
all, as far as dishonesty was concerned, Dan might 
be guiltless; in fact, hurt though she was, she 
would not condemn him on such evidence as 
Theresa furnished in her excited state at the time. 
She was ready to endorse any promissory note of 
good fortune for Bonne Terre, and Flora backed 
her. Father Duncan assured the good people that 
pretty soon a new era of prosperity would make 
them forget hard times. 


TROUBLED WATERS 


329 


Since the war, Bud Dade had become devoted 
to Frangois, and during the Captain^s illness he 
was untiring in his care of him. Consequently, 
he was brought into close association with Vir- 
ginia and Flora, and during the period of con- 
valescence when the friends exchanged ideas alto- 
gether undreamed of by the sturdy backwoods- 
man, he held back for a while from them, realizing 
his lack of education. The reading hours had a 
strange fascination for Bud, which Frangois ob- 
served with a keen interest, and one day when the 
two men were conversing together. Bud confided 
in his friend his disappointment at having missed 
receiving an education. The result was that Fran- 
gois advised Bud to enroll in Simpson^s private 
school. Under the guidance of that noble man, 
a healthy hunger for knowledge was stirred in 
him. Mr. Poston helped him out of school hours, 
then later, as a born teacher should do, he pointed 
out the way and encouraged his pupil to proceed 
as much as possible unassisted. Frangois helped, 
and Virginia also gave him a hand up. Father 
Duncan placed his books at his disposal; so, very 
soon Bud was able to express himself in fairly 
good English, discarding for good the backwoods' 
talk. 

When Mr. Poston closed his school and moved 


330 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


to the Salem neighborhood, Bud continued his 
studies under the occasional but efficient guidance 
of Father Duncan. 

Therefore, when Captain Frangois became an 
invalid for the second time, Bud had developed 
into quite a capable man who held a high station 
in the confidence of the community, particularly 
in the circle of Frangois’s friends. 

Flora Birsch had left off, long ago, discussing 
with Virginia the incident in the forest near the 
playhouse, but she brooded over it none the less. 
Finally, one day she decided to speak of it to Bud. 
She interpreted, rightly according to her view- 
point, that the compact of secrecy was confined 
to the personal matters contained in Theresa’s 
lament. What worried her, was the point Fran- 
gois appeared to ignore and which she did not like 
to mention anew to Virginia, the question of Dan’s 
duplicity towards the Master of Bonne Terre. 

Accordingly, one day while Virginia was reading 
to the Captain as he sat in an easy chair in the 
shade of the trees. Flora stole away to take a walk 
with Bud. On the way she told him of her fears 
— that Dan Douglas and his father away in the 
East meant to work some underhanded treachery 
against Frangois. Bud, of course, could not un- 
derstand her mistrust of the Douglases, so Flora 


TROUBLED WATERS 


331 


under the seal of strict confidence, told him as 
much as she thought she might say, which came 
near being the whole affair. 

Bud was interested and readily grasped the 
point she meant to emphasize. 

'‘As you know,^^ he said, ^‘Captain Frangois^s 600 
acres form only a part, although the best part, of 
the mining property. The company owns several 
smaller tracts. IVe understood from Pa that the 
Captain still owns his land, he^s only executed a 
lease to Donald Douglas — a mining lease — on 
which he receives royalties. I do not know the 
status of the other lands included in the workings. 
The company has not been successful so far. 
Many believe it is because the mines are exhaust- 
ed, and if the Douglases fail in securing capital to 
sink deeper shafts, the company must be aban- 
doned; in which event, the lease on Captain 
Frangois^s land would be forfeited. While I was 
hopeful a short time ago, the delays experienced 
by the Douglases seem to forecast the downfall of 
Bonne Terre.” 

Flora was impressed by Bud's clear statement 
of the case. 

^^Has Captain Frangois ever spoken to you on 
the subject?” she asked. 

^‘Once, just before his injury in the explosion. 


332 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


he referred to his lease, and said if the shaft they 
were sinking, the one in which the accident oc- 
curred, chanced to open up new beds of ore, he 
would be enabled out of his royalties to see me 
through college, if I were willing to accept his 
offer as a loan. Mr. Poston had entered his young 
son Jefferson in Miss Carlton’s Institute, near 
Salem Church, and he recommended that I pursue 
my studies there until I could go higher up. He 
always urged me to study.” 

“That would seem to confirm the existence of 
the lease on Francois’s lands? I do not quite see 
it, unless you mean that otherwise he would not 
be receiving royalties.” 

“Yes, and there can be no doubt about the 
lease.” 

“Then what could be the meaning of Mrs. Dou- 
glas’s accusation against her son. She spoke/ of 
his betraying the man who trusted him.” 

“I don’t believe Dan could cheat the Captain. 
To be frank with you, I do not think you should 
attach any importance to the old lady’s charge. 
She is a disappointed woman, who for some reason 
or other cannot agree with her husband. I be- 
lieve that the ravings you heard are the result of 
a disordered mind. Mr. Douglas is a man of ex- 


TROUBLED WATERS 


333 


cellent traits whom we have known these many 
years/^ 

Nevertheless, Bud lost no time in proceeding to 
Farmington, the county seat of St. Francois Coun- 
ty, and in order to satisfy Flora, he engaged the 
services of William Carter, attorney and counsel at 
law, to examine the titles to lands in and about 
Bonne Terre. Mr. Carter informed him, in writ- 
ten opinion, that the titles to all the surrounding 
tracts were in five names, all of whom proved to 
be men associated with Donald Douglas in the 
mining Company. Donald Douglas himself held 
title in fee simple by warranty deed to the 600 
acres formerly owned by Jean Frangois. There 
was no record of lease or mortgage to Jean Fran- 
cois, so according to record, his friend, the captain, 
had no interest whatever in the lands. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


AN APPEAL. 

Almost at the same time that Flora and Bud 
Dade were looking up titles to Bonne Terre lands, 
Dan Douglas and his father reached a tentative 
agreement with New York capitalists to develop 
the prospects of a greater mine far beneath the 
exhausted pocket deposits. 

Months of patient waiting and manipulation 
had been required to convert Eastern mining men 
to the theory of deeper veins of lead ore, but 
finally, upon the convincing arguments of the St. 
Louis engineer, strongly bolstered up by Dan's 
money, wisely spent in entertainment, a half dozen 
rich men formed a sjmdicate to open up the bowels 
of the earth at Blue Hill, and thereby win a great 
mine, or lose their money and charge it to exper- 
ience. The contract was being drawn by a lawyer, 
and after the signing there was to be given a 
banquet at the Astor House. The affair was to 
take place on Wednesday. 

This was the day before — Tuesday. Mrs. 


S34 


AN APPEAL 


335 


Douglas, accompanied by a maid, approached the 
desk at the Astor House, and inquired if Messrs. 
Donald Douglas and Dan Douglas were guests in 
the hotel. Receiving an affirmative reply, the old 
lady engaged rooms for herself and companion. 
The clerk informed her that the gentlemen she 
spoke of usually returned to the hotel for seven 
o'clock dinner. 

However, that night, father and son were din- 
ing out with members of the syndicate, not wax- 
ing enthusiastic over the hunt for the greater mine 
in the small Missouri town. A messenger brought 
a note to the proprietor of the hotel informing him 
that the gentlemen in question would not return 
until ten. When Theresa learned of their post- 
poned arrival she showed considerable impatience. 

She addressed herself to the clerk at the desk 
once more: 

‘Will you be so kind as to forward to Mr. Dou- 
glas a note which I shall write?" 

“I'm sorry. Madam, but Mr. Douglas does not 
state in his letter where he can be found." 

He kept on with his work, then as Mrs. Douglas 
did not move away he said: 

“I presume — that is, you are probably Mr. 
Douglas's wife. In that case he should know of 
your arrival." 


336 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Theresa realized she risked arousing suspicion 
in the mind of the self-important young man, so 
smiling amiably, replied: 

“Of course, he should know, but you see I’m 
treating myself to a little amusement — in — in 
coming in unawares when he thinks me far away. 
I admit I have no right to become impatient be- 
cause he is not on hand.” 

The clerk looked at her more kindly. Theresa 
felt encouraged and tried to advance her cause a 
little. 

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you do not mind. 
I’ll wait in the parlor until they both come in, 
then as they return tell them a friend — no, say 
two friends — have shortly come to the hotel, spe- 
cially to see them, and that they can be found in 
the parlor.” 

There was a certain amount of childishness 
about Theresa’s manner that to a stranger con- 
cealed the astuteness of her plotting. The clerk 
who was at first indifferent, when he saw a crisp 
bill held carelessly between her fingers, awoke to 
the possibilities of the situation and hastened to 
assure Mrs. Douglas he would do all in his power 
to hurry the meeting. The minute the gentle- 
men came back they would be informed, and he, 
himself, would escort them to the parlor. The 


AN APPEAL 


337 


bill changed hands and the clerk set down his pen 
and accompanied Theresa to her room for fear she 
might make a mistake. “Mr. Douglas is sure to 
be delighted/^ he added as he left her. 

“He should he” murmured Theresa to herself, 
nervously. 

Quite thirty years back, when Theresa was 
turned away by her husband, he settled upon her 
several thousand dollars, and throughout their 
long estrangement, she managed to hold on to the 
money without ever allowing herself to want for 
anything. On the advice of a friend, she had 
been fortunate in investing it, and occasionally 
she was even enabled to afford some luxuries, such 
as her present trip to New York, stopping at the 
best hotel, etc. 

On this special Tuesday, Mrs. Douglas dined 
well, and an hour before time, repaired to the 
luxurious parlor to await therein the coming of 
her husband and son. She well knew her presence 
would provoke a storm, and in spite of her spirit 
and self-will she was afraid of both men. This 
was a most unexpected move on her part, but she 
had decided upon it as we shall see later as her sole 
chance of winning over her husband. If this 
failed then there was no hope. The person who 
urged her to it had no doubts whatever of the re- 


338 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


suit and she tried hard to believe it would be so, 
realizing that a great deal depended on her curb- 
ing her high-strung temperament. 

Ten o’clock struck. She had passed the time 
so far, patiently although anxiously. Now she 
watched the doorway, starting at every footstep 
that sounded in the marble hallway. Once she 
passed into an adjoining room but returned short- 
ly, and for the space of a few minutes seemed 
slightly relieved. 

Eleven o’clock rolled around. The clock in 
Trinity Tower sounded twelve. The strain on her 
nerves was telling; it seemed that she must cry. 
Her severe illness in Bonne Terre had enfeebled 
her and her age was more apparent than a few 
years before. Miss Mead, who sat at the other 
end of the parlor, watched her and became fearful 
that Theresa could not stand the interview. Miss 
Mead, who was more of a companion and friend 
than maid — although registered in the latter ca- 
pacity — had known Mrs. Douglas for many years 
and it was^o her the old lady had gone when she 
left the Birsches. A kind, flexible, impulsive dis- 
positioned spinster several years younger than 
Theresa, she had readily consented to lend herself 
to Theresa’s scheme of surprising her husband in 
New York — the romantic meeting interested her 


AN APPEAL 


339 


beyond words and the two had planned its least 
details, that is as far as they were concerned. But 
once arrived in New York, Miss Mead had been 
put aside. Despite her entreaties, Theresa had 
insisted on attending to some business which she 
declared was very pressing and had not confided 
in her. companion, and about the final arrange- 
ment for the meeting she was in the dark. She 
would have given anything to follow Theresa out 
of the room when she retired in the earlier part 
of the evening. 

A little after twelve, Theresa made sign to Miss 
Mead to retire. She remonstrated, but being ac- 
quainted with Theresa^s imperative manners, she 
submitted meekly and left the parlor. 

A few minutes later, Theresa^s keen ears caught 
the sound of Dan’s voice coming along the hall 
and nerved herself to bear the ordeal. 

The clerk had received specific instructions to 
admit both men to the front parlor' and received 
an extra tip to close the door after them. Mrs. 
Douglas was then to pass into the second parlor 
so as not to be seen from the entrance — she was 
to keep well out of sight of the archway. 

She heard the door closed and felt the presence 
of the two men whose footsteps were muffled by 


340 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


the thick carpets. Then she came forward and 
halted under the hanging lamps. 

Father and son leered at her through bloodshot 
eyes. They staggered back astounded, oaths all 
but pronounced on their lips. 

^'Be seated, my husband and my son,'' said 
Theresa, affecting the motherly way she might 
have used in her own home. 

^^Humph!" snarled Dan vehemently, ^^come 
Dad, let's get out of this." 

Donald Douglas, unyielding to others, was al- 
ways ready to obey his son. He turned to go. 

Theresa's wits were ready for emergencies. In 
fact after her rebuke in the forest, nothing short 
of being struck could surprise her. She knew 
what would arrest their exit. 

“Surely," she said in a remarkably calm voice, 
“with to-morrow, a contract of prime importance 
to be signed, you will not pack me off to bed when 
I can tell you something to your advantage." 

“What contract are you talking about?" asked 
Dan angrily. “I told you long ago, before leav- 
ing, Bonne Terre, that she was spying on us, 
Father." 

Donald Douglas was bewildered. He was half 
way to the door when Theresa mentioned the 


AN APPEAL 


341 


contract, but Dan had rushed to his mother’s 
side, wildly excited. 

‘^Be calm, Dan,” he said, ^Vemember we are in 
a public place, and she,” pointing to Theresa, ^^has 
probably registered as my wife.” 

^‘Yes,” and he looked straight at his mother, 
‘T suppose you bribed the clerk to set this trap 
for us.” 

‘^You were speaking of a contract,” Mr. Douglas 
said tentatively. 

''And I want to know what you know about it,” 
Dan spoke through clinched teeth.” 

Theresa was not slow in grasping that she had 
the upper hand of the situation. Long years of 
battling for herself had developed her keenness, 
equal to almost any man’s. 

^‘Well, Dannie, if you’ll give your old mother a 
chance she’ll tell you.” 

^The devil with your Dannie. My name is 
Daniel.” 

“I read the contract to-day, Daniel.” 

“Pa, do you hear that? why don’t you speak 
out?” 

Donald Douglas had heard and the knowl- 
edge sobered him in a second. He stood at atten- 
tion. 

Theresa pointed to chairs, and the father sank 


342 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


into one at once. Dan remained standing but 
Theresa took a seat facing her husband. 

Dan could not understand his father and looked 
disgusted. 

'"Well?’' he asked with the ring of an ugly de- 
mand in his voice. 

Donald Douglas was busy mopping his brow. 
He looked distinctly uncomfortable. Heretofore, 
in Theresa’s attempts at reconciliation he had al- 
ways been successful in evading her, and this was 
the first time that father and son were caught to- 
gether. When Dan became old enough to know, 
Donald gave him his version of the separation. 
But now, what was Theresa going to say, what 
part of his past was she going to drag before his 
eyes — and his son’s? The contract which seemed 
to be the chief topic of discussion was merely a 
bluff, so he thought. 

‘^Now, Daniel, please remain quiet while I 
speak with your father.” 

Donald thought of calling for help, but how 
could he do so without awaking suspicion. 

haven’t followed you here,” continued 
Theresa, “to upbraid you in the style you ima- 
gine, but to point out dangers that await you. I 
must be heard. Fortunately, I’m in a position to 


AN APPEAL 


343 


force an audience for myself, but if you permit 
me to speak you will have nothing to regret.’’ 

“On with it then.” 

“Yes, my son, only be patient.” 

“Theresa,” put in Donald, “since you insist on 
talking with me, would it not be better that Dan 
go?” 

“No, Donald; it is time that there be no secrets 
between us that our son does not share. It will 
be easier for both of us.” 

“Then, if you have come here on purpose to 
prejudice my son against me, I insist on his leav- 
ing the room.” 

“Donald, do you think me a foolish woman, 
when for thirty years I’ve kept your secret and my 
own counsel, in the face of your treatment?” 

“Say on then.” 

“I must begin with a confession: 

“Since being forced out alone into the world by 
you, only once did I come near to doing any 
wrong. Nearly fifteen years ago, I tried to win 
a man away from his family, a good man you and 
I knew years ago, but he scorned me. My senses 
returned, and I fled, lest, in my loneliness I be 
tempted again. That was the first and only 
thing of which I am ashamed. 

^When Dan was a baby, you drove me away. 


344 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


You accused me of a wrong of which I am inno- 
cent.” 

‘That is enough, Theresa.” 

“It is not!” she cried with a note of anger in 
her voice, but she calmed herself, “You are com- 
pelled to listen to me.” 

Donald had risen but he reseated himself. 

“You accused me falsely of unbecoming con- 
duct with a young man by the name of David 
Ryan. The circumstances condemned me and 
nothing I could say would convince you of my 
innocence. There was no alternative for me but 
to submit to your verdict since I could never find 
the chief witness in the case. For the sake of 
my boy I remained silent. 

“I was young, so, by and by, I lived thought- 
lessly, not sinfully, for I never forgot I had a son, 
and also a husband if I could prove my innocence, 
which I hoped to do some day. During the last 
years when I lived so close to you in Bonne Terre, 
I was tolerated by some— a few — all the others 
regarded me with suspicion as nearly everybody 
has done since you disowned me. It was hard 
for me to hold up my head and not sink under 
your abuse and my son’s whenever I attempted 
to explain to you. 

“While in Bonne Terre, I had very little to 


AN APPEAL 


345 


say, but I observed a good deal what was going 
on. For some time now, IVe suspected Dan and 
you, too, Donald, of coveting Jean Frangois^s 
lands. Now, Donald, I want to ask you, if of all 
men in the world, his fathers son should not be — ” 

‘Theresa!’' cried Donald, “What do you mean?” 

“I see you understand, and we shall discuss 
that another time; for the present let us say, 
consideration at your hands.” 

“Twaddle!” cried Dan, “What I’m interested in 
is the contract.” 

“I’m coming to it,” said Theresa with dignity. 
“I tried to speak with Dan in the woods, just 
before he came here, but he thrust me aside as 
if I were a common woman. So, I came here 
with the firm intention of having you acknowl- 
edge me or — to hunt you both down mercilessly 
and have revenge for my wasted life. Of that I 
am repentant, — I would do you no harm. 

“But fortune favored my quest. Yesterday, 
while searching for you, whom should I meet, 
after all these years, but David Ryan. He did 
not know me, but I should have known him any- 
where, in this world or the next — ^being connected, 
though unintentionally, with my unhappiness, his 
face has burned itself into my memory. I have 
searched for him in every part of this land, in 


346 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


order to vindicate myself before you and my son. 
I have devoted my life to it, and not until dur- 
ing the war did I give up and believe him dead. 
He is alive, Donald.’^ 

^^What has he to do with the contract?^^ asked 
Dan, bent on being ugly, as he threw himself in 
an armchair and yawned. 

^Tn your syndicate you have a man named 
Henry J. Ryan. He is David Ryan^s son.^’ 

Both men sprang to their feet and stared at 
each other. Henry Ryan was the only man not 
wholly convinced of the feasibility of their plan. 

^*Be seated. I know your fears. I see you 
think I have interfered with your scheme. 

^Tn past years IVe spent much time in New 
York, and lived in the family of Mr. Dean, the 
man who invested my money for me, and the same 
lawyer who is drawing up your contract. Mr. 
Dean has been very kind to me, has always be- 
lieved in my innocence, and is willing to vouch 
for my past life. So, naturally, when I arrived 
in New York a few days ago, I went to his home. 
Yesterday, I saw him for the first time during 
my present visit, and he is the one told me where 
you and Dan were stopping. He mentioned that 
you were both very successful business men, and 
spoke of drawing up your business papers. You 


AN APPEAL 


347 


need not start — he did not betray you. What I 
know, I found out myself. I went to his office 
with his daughter, and while there managed to 
get hold of the contract and read it. Henry 
Ryan’s name awoke my curiosity, — my hunting 
mania — and I went to him. Result, I foimd out 
David Ryan is his father, called on him and told 
him my story. The instant I set eyes on him I 
could have sworn to his identity. He was dumb- 
founded and pained beyond words, and Donald, 
you will forgive me if I worked on your feelings 
about the contract, it is to meet Mr. Ryan that 
I’ve detained you and Dan. Mr. Ryan is now in 
the hotel. Shall I call him?” 

The two men were unable to answer but stared 
at each other while Theresa stepped to the door 
of an adjoining parlor, disappeared for a few sec- 
onds and returned with David Ryan. 

^‘Ah, this is Donald Douglas, indeed! How 
are you Daniel?” and the man’s voice, big and 
hearty filled the parlor. 

^Wery well, Mr. Ryan,” replied Donald who had 
scarcely had time to collect his thoughts. 

^^And this is my son Dan, Mr. Ryan,” Theresa 
looked proudly at her son who arose bewildered 
to great the newcomer. 

“Why, my friends, how pleasant to meet you 


348 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


again, and with a grown son. I, too, have such a 
boy — but you know him, I believe?” 

'‘Yes, yes,” said Donald. 

David Ryan’s open, genial ways seemed to 
pierce through his reserve but feebly. He looked 
sheepish. 

“Let’s talk over old times,” and Ryan motioned 
the party to seats. “It’s been many years since 
we met, Donald. You see I went to Montreal 
after leaving St. Louis, and only returned here 
two years ago. 

“It’s been a good thirty years since I dined with 
you in your home.” 

“So it has, Ryan.” 

“Now, Douglas, it’s no use my beating about 
the bush. You and your son know why I’m here, 
and when I tell you I was shocked and grieved — 
I do not think I can ever be forgiven for being 
the cause of your unhappy quarrel and separa- 
tion! I could scarcely believe I understood Mrs. 
Douglas aright when she related me the story of 
her broken life! Is it possible, Donald, that you 
thought me such a scoundrel all these years? — 
when I was doing the best I knew to be honest 
and live a good, clean life? Great Scotts! man! 
what can I do to make up for it? There’s Mrs. 
Douglas, an old woman now — I beg your pardon 


AN APPEAL 


349 


— thrown out of her home, and I the innocent 
cause of it all, but still the cause. I never slept 
a wink the night after she told me, and IVe 
been walking the floor of that room over yonder, 
ready to run in here on the shortest notice.” 

No one spoke so Ryan kept on. 

'We must come to an understanding. I can 
quite see how your inflexible honesty and your 
standard of life would make you unbending to this 
hour, and I must explain exactly a situation that 
brought about such lasting consequences. Know- 
ing you to be always a just man — I’m convinced 
you never committed a wrong act in your life — 
mistakes, of course, we all make mistakes — but 
nothing more. Do you know I always kept you 
in mind as my ideal?” 

Ryan was talking volubly, asking questions; 
fortunately not expecting any reply. As for 
Donald Douglas, he was really and honestly liv- 
ing over his past although he winced under Ryan’s 
praise. 

"Permit me, Donald my friend, in the presence 
of your wife and son, who must undoubtedly have 
suffered from this long estrangement, to assure 
.you that the wrong you charge your wife with 
was never done, nor even ever contemplated. 

"And that she could never explain will be evi- 


350 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


dent to you when I make you acquainted with a 
story that you can have verified by my wife any 
day. It is a funny story — that is I considered it 
so until I heard Theresa's version of it. Had you 
and I been more special friends a letter, even a 
chance letter from me would have set things 
right. But instead it seemed that the fact your 
wife and I played together when children made 
matters worse. We were really better acquainted 
with each other and it is through her that I 
learned to admire you so much. 

*The story lies wrapped up in my own love 
affair. When I left St. Louis so suddenly, I ran 
away with Urcella Haggard. Her infuriated 
father followed us to Montreal, and liked me so 
well that he forgave our escapade and spent the 
remainder of his life with Urcella and me." 

^‘Stop, Ryan. You need not explain further. 
Urcella Haggard would never have married a 
villian. And is that what you were doing in my 
house at that time — getting ready for the elope- 
ment?" 

'"No, not quite that, Donald, and that's what 
misled you. It was something worse to me at 
the time. Urcella's father had an inkling of our 
proposed marriage which was to take place in St. 
Louis, and I was being watched in the streets to 


AN APPEAL 


351 


be kidnapped. It was a mad idea of the old 
man's — if you ever knew him you cannot have 
forgotten his eccentricity." 

did know him in a way but — I was too — an- 
noyed and did not connect his disappearence with 
yours. I do not yet quite see — ." 

^^As I said it was a mad idea, but Mr. Haggard 
had my house watched by detectives and in order 
to get out, I was forced to make my way over the 
roofs of houses. When I came to yours, I took 
the liberty of opening windows and going through. 
If you remember, your house was a storey higher 
than the others. I meant to explain and before 
passing down the back stairway I knocked at a 
door; I suppose it must have been Theresa’s room. 
It was late and I received no answer. I heard a 
ring at the front door and fearing it might be the 
detectives I made for an exit as fast as I could, on 
the way I came face to face with your wife, natur- 
ally she looked startled but I did not wait to 
speak with her. What happened later, I heard 
from her own lips yesterday." 

Donald cleared his throat and looked distinctly 
uncomfortable. 

^^Do you comprehend why she could not ex- 
plain?" 

‘T will not permit you to say anything further, 


352 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Ryan. That will do.” Then after a second's 
hesitation he stammered, ^^but, why — ?” 

“I see, why did no one hear of Urcella's mar- 
riage? Well, because her father's straight-laced 
notions of propriety would not permit him to have 
the public hear of his daughter's elopement. He 
hushed up the matter and preferred to exile him- 
self from his native city. He never returned to 
St. Louis. His lawyer wound up his business and 
he started all over with me in Montreal.'' 

All the time David Ryan was speaking Dan 
had never once removed his eyes from him. He 
now looked at his father. 

“Say, Dad, that was tough on the old lady.'' 

Donald bowed his head. 

Theresa, so brave until then, was crying. 

Ryan arose. 

“Well,” said he, “I must be going. But before 
leaving, I'd like to feel sure that the mischief I 
caused is at an end. I'll never enjoy a moment's 
peace until I feel that matters are squared up 
between you. Douglas, if you and your son have 
anything more to ask me. I'll be in Henry's of- 
fice to-morrow.” With that he left the room 
abruptly. 

When the door closed behind Mr. Ryan, Dan 
moved to the window and occupied himself con- 


AN APPEAL 


353 


templating the dim lights along Broadway. What 
his attitude towards his mother was to be here- 
after seemed to depend upon his father's. '"It's 
none of my business, after all. IVe enough to do 
paddling my own canoe. I expect there's going 
to be a lot of making up between those two, in 
the meantime they seem mighty quiet over it." 

A deathlike silence continued for several sec- 
onds more, then someone opened the door and all 
three turned to see Miss Mead stand on the thres- 
hold. 

‘^Who is that?" asked Donald looking at 
Theresa for the first time since Ryan's confes- 
sion. 

“My — my companion," she sobbed, “Miss 
Mead." 

“Miss Mead, you're not wanted here for the 
present," said Donald. 

He got up and walked across the room several 
times, his hands behind his back, while Theresa's 
companion, or maid, without replying turned on 
her heels and for one usually so mild, walked up 
the hall to her room with a look of injured dignity. 

“I expect now she's got him. I'll be worse than 
a cast-off shoe," and similar expressions escaped 
her while she hastily packed her things. She was 


354 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


very angry and hurt at not being more in There- 
sa^s confidence. 

Dan had cast several surreptitious glances over 
his shoulder without discovering any change in 
the position of his father and mother. By this 
time, the street lamps glowed like balls of fire with 
a spangled halo around them; and the stars 
seemed to dance mysteriously in the heavens. 
Dan was not given to much meditation nor to 
dangling. His father and he couldn’t with any 
decency turn off the old woman after what Ryan 
had said. Oh! that there should not be a senti- 
mental reconciliation suited him very well, but 
something must be done or said. Suddenly a 
subdued sob brought him to the realization that 
something was transpiring. 

He wheeled about sharply to see his mother 
sinking on her knees before the erect, stolid form 
of his father, and the remembrance of the scene 
in the woods with his rude rebuff of the woman 
who had appealed to him sent the blood surging 
to his face. 

Theresa was pleading in broken sentences. 

'Ta, what’s the matter with you?” he cried 
roughly laying a hand on his father’s shoulder. 
''Can’t you two make up without making a lot of 
fuss over it?” The spark of real manhood slum- 


AN APPEAL 


355 


bering in his heart was fanned into a flame and 
lighted his eyes. 

“Mother!’^ he cried as he took the swooning 
Theresa in his arms and laid her on the sofa. 

Mrs. Douglas had heard and the joy was too 
much for her. It was the first time those lips 
had spoken the word. 

^^Dan,” cried his father, ^'it^s not what you 
think. I^m only wondering if we — if I^m worthy.’^ 

With that he bent and pressed his lips to his 
wife^s forehead. 

For a moment father and son^s greed and 
scheming skulked into cover and the best in 
them came to the surface. As quietly as possible 
they conveyed Theresa to her room and both 
stayed with her through the night. When to- 
wards dawn, Theresa, in a semi-conscious state 
opened her eyes, for the first time in over twenty 
years, Dan cried and knelt at her bedside with his 
face hidden in the covers. 

''Douglas,” said Theresa timidly, holding out a 
hand. 

"Yes, Theresa.” 

She waited another minute before speaking. 
Tears were welling in her eyes. 

"Douglas, I want to make a request, just one.” 

"It is already granted, my wife.” 


356 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


'T — I want you to take me back to Bonne Terre 
and there acknowledge me as your wife. That 
will make me happy, even if you see fit to leave 
me again.’^ 

^Theresa, from this hour I shall never go 
from you. You — ” 

'^But, Douglas, I wish to return alone.^’ 

The two men saw the woman’s point of view 
in the request. 

'^As you wish,” said the father and husband. 

Dan simply shrugged his shoulders. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


REJOICING. 

Dade’s Inn was decorated with flowers, and 
dozens of lamps lighted the great cavernous halls 
and rooms. 

Bonne Terre rejoiced. 

A week before, Theresa had returned and re- 
sumed her residence at the Birsch home. She 
would not say what good fortune had swept away 
the gloom and reticence which hitherto shrouded 
her in mystery. What surprised Flora was to hear 
her ask Mr. Birsch if he had recent news of Mr. 
Douglas and his son. At first he frowned but her 
innocent look disarmed him and he spoke pleas- 
antly in the affirmative. 

Against her will and sound practical sense Flora 
was inveigled by the old lady into making her a 
dress of some pretty white satin brought down 
from St. Louis. “What an idea!” she said to 
her mother, but in trying to humor Theresa she 
became enthusiastic over the task. 

So full was Mrs. Douglas of expectant pleaa- 


357 


358 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


ure, that the curiosity of the entire village wag 
aroused. Malinda sought Flora and in confidence 
said to her: 

“Miss Flora, sho dat pore souFs out o' 'er 'ead. 
The way ah sees 'er trip 'bout like if she's sixteen, 
ah says to Obediah, Vhenever ah sees 'er cornin' 
ah knocks on wood, an' you do the same, faint 
'cause you aint never been hit in the 'ead by 
some crazy nigger you'ze proof 'gainst the wiles 
of a 'oman.' " 

“Malinda!" cried Flora, “I'm surprised at you." 

“No, Miss Flora, ah aint surprised at mahself, 
ah keeps 'sprised at Mrs. Douglas, for a ol' 'oman 
her age — to be prancin' 'bout, an' wantin' to wear 
a white satin dress." 

At last Flora thought she had a clue to the old 
lady's wanting a white dress. She probably 
wanted to show off at Dan’s wedding, but when 
she told Virginia about it, her friend knew noth- 
ing of the wedding and showed such evident signs 
of distress at the mention of it that Flora feared 
she had committed an indiscretion. No doubt, 
Theresa, having brooded over her troubles for 
more than a quarter of a century, had passed the 
limit of endurance, thought the girl, and the old 
cook must be right. This pleasant phantasy was 


REJOICING 


359 


bridging her over from the sane into the insane. 
She would look after her carefully. 

And Theresa showed no signs of resenting 
Flora’s presence but greeted her with the ex- 
uberant joy of girlhood whenever she thought it 
wise to intrude into her room. Malinda at such 
times was never far off. 

All this occupied one week and at the end of 
the seventh day, a letter came to Captain Fran- 
cois, from Donald Douglas, authorizing the young 
man to announce to the mining town the forma- 
tion of a syndicate of rich capitalists who intended 
making the lead mines prove the greatest in the 
world. The necessary prospecting equipment 
was being purchased, and in a short time, eight 
or ten of the Eastern men interested would come 
down to Bonne Terre and see the operations 
started. 

The Captain was just able to sit in a big, com- 
fortable rocking chair on the porch, but he sent 
word around and about the village for the people 
to assemble at the Inn the next morning, for him 
to read to them the letter just come from New 
York, announcing the great future ahead of the 
town. They came,— men, women, and children, 
— and as they stood in the yard below him, in a 


360 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


compact body, Frangois made known to them the 
contents of the letter. 

When he concluded the message, deafening 
shouts and cheering arose in the still air. Bonne 
Terre awoke from its lethargy, and people went 
about the rude streets crying loudly the names 
of the Douglases — the benefactors of the village 
on the three hills. 

On the heels of the excitement, the Douglases 
made a miniature triumphal entry into Bonne 
Terre. 

The following neat looking invitations were 
delivered to every home, announcing the “Re- 
wedding^^ at Dade’s Inn, on Thursday evening 
next, of Donald Douglas and Theresa Douglas. 
It was unanimously decided that a ball should be 
given the same night to celebrate the event in 
conjunction with the good fortune which had 
lately come to Bonne Terre through its mining 
interests. Captain Jean Frangois was asked to 
give away the bride. 

Hence the gay dressing for a weather-stained 
old Inn. 

Once more a crowd typical of the out-of-way 
district gathered at Dade’s home. The last func- 
tion held in the old rambling building was the 
dance following the Dade trial, and that was be- 


REJOICING 


361 


fore the war, when rustic lads and lasses and un- 
couth hunters and backwoodsmen vied in harm- 
less hilarity. Since then the sword that had killed 
tens of thousands numbered among its victims 
many of the young giants of the hills, — old Silas 
contributing his quota to these sacrifices to 
patriotism. On the eve of the Douglas ball not 
many remembered the one which had gone on 
in the past. 

Of those few, Frangois, sitting and musing in 
the lengthening shadows of the afternoon, revived 
his impressions of the dance years ago. 

At times he had tried to ignore, had fooled him- 
self into believing that treasures can be locked in 
the heart and left there, to sweeten life unawares; 
but the vaults of inner man are unlike steel- 
ribbed strong-boxes that permit rarest gems to lie 
therein unused. Man is a living, moving, feel- 
ing being, and what is within is his master. In 
spite of his will, Frangois^s mind had taken daily 
invoice of the treasure he stored away, and if not 
during his waking hours, then at night the chain 
wheel of dreams had turned out its beauties to 
glitter and dazzle in mimic episodes of realities. 

So, it required on his part no effort to recall 
the girl who had just donned long skirts and who 
had fascinated him with her beautiful simplicity, 


362 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


as she uttered commonplaces peculiar to the hills. 
Her ^Vou’ns^^ and ‘Ve’uns” sounded so quaint 
after the lapse of years. Then he thought of 
their meeting in Richmond and how she had 
laughed at her former ignorance. It was there 
that she admitted to him her engagement to 
Dan Douglas, and the recollection brought him 
to the realization of the present — she was as far 
from him now as then when he had locked up the 
memories of their short acquaintance that meant 
so much to him. Since then how the store had 
grown. He still loved Virginia and he knew that 
in a short while when she would come up and 
greet him she would outshine the little back- 
woodsmaid of long ago. She was crowned by the 
glory of full womanhood now and had at her 
command all the subtle shades of language to ex- 
press the thoughts of a highly cultured mind. 
Frangois felt a numbness about his heart — he 
must love without hope for she loved another. 

Katydids began their chirping in the tree tops. 
Whippoorwills whistled in the dark gulches, and 
swallows twittered as they sped in circles above 
chimney tops and occasionally swooped to the 
earth. Night approached. Already the first ar- 
rivals to the wedding and ball were coming down 
the road. Silas and Mam joined the Captain, 


REJOICING 


363 


their wrinkled faces aglow with happy smiles 
donned to welcome their friends and guests. Fran- 
gois^s sad mood felt rebuked by their unselfish- 
ness, so he replied to Dade’s sallies with his ac- 
customed cheerfulness. He was soon helped to 
his chair in the big white-washed room, and the 
master and mistress of the Inn met the bridal 
party. 

Promptly at eight o’clock, Donald Douglas and 
Bud Dade stood before the great fire-place, con- 
verted by Virginia and Flora into a cavern of 
flowers for the occasion, and Theresa and Dan 
assisted Captain Frangois to stand with them by 
the side of the ^^husband bridegroom.” ‘^Bawlly” 
Young, an old-time preacher, very famous in his 
day, prefaced his simple ceremony with a brief 
explanation of why the two were being rejoined 
after three decades of separation. When these 
appropriate remarks were finished, everyone pre- 
sent was convinced and the hearty applause which 
exploded by general consent, showed that old sus- 
picions and whispered tales died that instant. 

Donald and Theresa, both with hair silvered by 
the slow but sure running of time, took a step 
forward and joined hands. Old “Bawlly” reread 
the ceremony of thirty-five years standing. Cap- 
tain Frangois pronouncing the Words of giving 


364 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


away the bride used by her brother, long since 
dead. The wife-bride, in her white satin gown, 
captivated every man and woman and won their 
love. Donald, staid and solid in purpose, but 
genial and jolly, was accorded the full confidence 
and esteem of the villagers. 

The old preacher concluded with the customary: 

“What God hath joined 
let no man put asunder/’ 

then he spread out his big palms to heaven and 
prayed fervently for blessings upon the couple, 
and especially upon their son Dan. 

Since the minister's religion opposed dancing, 
he went away immediately after the ceremony, 
followed by the regrets of the young men and 
women who long after Bonne Terre became a city, 
remembered ^^Bawlly" Young and the advice he 
gave so earnestly. 

Again the fiddlers twigged the strings of their 
violins and played snatches of familiar music 
while couples were being formed of suitable part- 
ners. This time it was Bud who occupied the 
place by the hearth and called out the figures. 
Frangois, from his retired seat in a corner of the 
room studied his face. At the dance before the 
war, Bud was a rough hill youth, a proud though 
whipped bully of the fists; now he stood erect, a 


REJOICING 


365 


man from whose countenance shone discipline and 
education. But Dade^s son was still young and 
he clapped his hands and stamped his foot roguish- 
ly as the violin tackled his favorite tune, and 
called in an inimitable, resonant voice: ^^Balance 
the bride, then fall in all! Balance all!” 

The ball had begun. 

As on a like occasion years before, Jean Fran- 
cois sat in an obscure comer, overcome with 
ecstacy as he watched Virginia dance. He had en- 
vied Dan before, he envied him again although he 
scolded himself for it the next instant. The ten- 
der bud of a woman just beginning to unfold at 
the time of the former dance now he saw a com- 
pleted flower, surpassingly lovely. He spent the 
evening alternately reveling in his love and sober- 
ing before its impossibility, conquering it was be- 
yond his strength for he loved her with an un- 
controllable, all-consuming love. 

‘^Why not assert yourself?” it whispered. ‘^Have 
you not the same right to happiness as your 
rival?” 

‘^No,” he whispered to himself, '^not with the 
shadow of mystery darkening my name.” 

Thus in retrospection and rejoicing, and with 
the commingling of the remnants of the old-fash- 
ioned past with the new life of a beginning epoch. 


366 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


the festivities of the night went on until another 
day tiptoed over the Eastern ridges. Laughing 
and shouting good-humored banter, the company 
separated and disappeared on the roads and paths, 
carrying home a conviction that an edict had been 
issued commanding a change of front to right- 
about-face in the new Bonne Terre. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A CONFESSION. 

Upon discovering that Captain Frangois had 
parted with title to his lands, Bud Dade held a 
conference with Flora and both decided there 
could be nothing amiss in the transaction since 
there was plain record thereof. “Moreover,^' 
added Bud, ‘‘by what right can we, unauthorized 
friends, pry into his private business? Frangois 
cannot be ignorant of his status, and does not re- 
quire us to look after his interests.” 

“In one way you are right, but can^t you see 
that his — devotion to Virginia might make him 
overlook them?” insisted Flora. 

Bud remained silent for a minute. He was 
pondering over Flora's hesitation and the word she 
used to express what he considered simply friend- 
ship on Frangois's part. 

Flora had lived true to her high resolve to for- 
get herself in her love for the Captain, but there 
seemed to be some compensation, some secret 
satisfaction if she could be at all instrumental in 

367 


368 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


bringing about his happiness with Virginia as his 
wife. That the latter had no designs whatever on 
his affections made it easy for Flora, besides, she 
loved her friend sincerely. 

So, when Bud whistled softly, a questioning look 
in his eyes. Flora told him that she was certain the 
Captain loved Virginia, but with a hopeless love 
because of her affection for Dan. 

‘‘But, certainly the Captain must know there is 
not much ardor in their love, else how account for 
an engagement of such long standing? He has 
always seemed to me to hold back from Virginia.” 

“Of course, he would; that’s because he loves 
her in the genuine old-fashioned way. I think he 
would die before letting Virginia know. He would 
think himself dishonored for ever.” 

After a moment’s reflection Flora asked: 

“But why did you speak so confidently just 
now? Do you really believe there has ceased to be 
earnestness on Dan’s part. I know that Virginia 
is very serious and loves him as much as ever.” 

“Dan would not mention it to me, but it is 
quite plain. One can usually tell what is false 
and what is true in matters of love. I’m as sure 
as you, however, that Virginia has more than kept 
her part of the bargain.” 

“Quite. You have no idea how joyous she was 


A CONFESSION 


369 


before Dan went to New York. She told me of 
plans to be carried out after the mines proved a 
success. No, I believe she said the wedding would 
take place as soon as the necessary capital was 
secured. I can^t help thinking that those terrible 
hints of Theresa's disturbed her faith in Dan. 
Still, as you say, after the recent event who can 
doubt their exaggeration? Dan seems respectful 
not to say affectionate, towards his mother, but I 
think him very cold and. Bud, I don't care if I do 
say it without being able to prove my words, I 
haven't the slightest use for him. I feel that he 
isn't to be trusted. No, you cannot change my 
opinion of him. I've tried hard to be fair to him 
but it's no use, and it makes me angry to see 
Captain Francois, sitting back and letting him 
have Virginia — and his lands." 

Flora stopped just long enough to take a deep 
breath. Bud arose from the log on which they 
sat at the edge of the forest and looked about for 
something to whittle. 

“Well, Dan's back now, the Syndicate's been 
formed, all the necessary capital is backing the 
enterprise and yet there is no talk of wedding. I 
thought his father's rewedding an opportunity and 
I quizzed Virginia about it but there was nothing 
doing. Bud, I think you must be right. And, 


370 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Bud,” she repeated solemnly, 'T think it is your 
duty to speak to Captain Frangois. Now mi^t 
be his chance.” 

“I told you. Flora, that I^m not much for inter- 
fering in other people’s business. If Virginia loves 
Dan this is something over which we have no 
control.” 

‘‘Bud, won’t you speak to the Captain?” 

“No.” 

“But you admit you don’t think Dan will ever 
marry Virginia?” 

“Yes, I have my doubts.” 

“Well, you may do what you think right, but 
I’m not going to let Virginia be the dupe of such 
a man. Bud, if you won’t help me, I’ll ask — let 
me see whom shall I ask?” 

Bud came nearer. 

“I’m willing to help you, Flora, but I’ve never 
cultivated a taste for matchmaking.” 

“You won’t call it that, Bud, or I’ll wash my 
hands forever of — ^you,” she added smiling, quick 
to note some weakening in his attitude. “But if 
this dandy — that’s ail he is — ” 

“He’s a fine business man, Flora.” 

“That might be all right for men, but it does 
not make a woman happy to have a husband who 
is only a fine business man. He must be some- 


A CONFESSION 


371 


thing besides — when he gets home. If, as I said, 
this dandy will not or cannot marry Virginia be- 
cause he does not have the proper sense of her 
worth, it is our duty, when we know that a man 
like Captain Frangois loves her, to urge him on in 
some way. Look here, if I were a big, strong 
man like you, I^d know just what to do, I^d talk to 
Dan Douglas himself.” 

Bud laughed at her ardor. 

“Well, at any rate, I^d speak to Captain Fran- 
gois.” 

“What good would that do? you admit yourself 
that he has such a nice sense of honor that he 
would never step before Dan.” 

“Bud, I don^t know what to tell you to do, but 
do something. I can^t manage Virginia and Dan 
both.” 

“The most I can do, is to think it over, since 
you are determined.” 

“That isn^t much but it might turn out to be 
something,” said Flora brightening. If once 
started he would go on to the end. 

If anyone rushed at Bud and tried to excite him 
into action it was all a mistake. He worked best 
at low pressure. Flora knew this and tried to 
curb her excitability. They walked about for an- 


372 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


other half hour, and she did not again mention the 
subject she had at heart. 

On arriving at the street crossing near the 
Bardsdell home Virginia ran after her and begged 
them both to come in a while. Bud excused him- 
self, Flora, after a little coaxing, accepted the invi- 
tation. 

She had meant to go to Virginia's any way that 
Sunday afternoon, but it served well to have her 
insist. 

^^Really, Virginia," she pleaded, ‘T must go home 
first. Mamma may need me. Indeed, I have a 
message for her." 

^^You may do that if you will, your mother is 
at our house." 

''Oh, all right then." 

The message was forgotten as they started 
across the lawn to the arbor. 

They took their accustomed seats on the bench, 
and for a while chatted aimlessly. Virginia seemed 
depressed. Flora tacked sail and threw a little 
there to windward but it was useless, the anchor 
was down. But the haphazard way in which the 
conversation ran, so different from their usual 
bright way of dealing with some question, did not 
indicate necessarily mental lethargy, instead it 
was the result of preoccupation on both sides. 


A CONFESSION 


373 


Old Silas passed the gate and signalled to the 
girls, but receiving no response, he trudged on 
muttering to himself wise sayings as was his cus- 
tom. This time no one being within earshot, he 
let his wisdom run on unabated. 

Said he: 

“Them sure is the likeliest gals weVe ever had 
in these here parts. I haint sayin’ though which 
one I^d take if I was on the fly again. Humph ! ^t 
would be hard pickin' out." 

He stood still a few seconds then he kicked out 
a rock from the road. He was still musing: 

“Strange I used to think them so much alike. 
But they haint." He turned around and looked 
in the direction of the Bardsdell garden. 

“Now, there's Virgie, — prettier 'n a statoo in 
one them museums I seen once in St. Louis, 'cause 
her cheeks an' lips is just as red as any man could 
like, I haint sayin' nothin' of her plumpness and 
figger, that I said is like a beautiful statoo's an' 
better yet 'cause them statoos always gives me the 
shivers. Her eyes, bejabers, that's where she 
skins them statoos again, they melts into yours 
and makes you feel like a saint, that is, like being 
one. It's dolgarned funny how a fellow wants to 
be good when the right kin' of a gal turns her 
blinkers into his very soul. Then Virgie's hair, 


374 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


was I forgettin’ that! I seen the time when I’d 
be in glory tangling my fingers in such. No, I 
never seen blacker, glossier curly hair in this 
world, an’ no one ever seen prettier in the nex’, or 
more of it nuther.” 

He cleared his throat with an ^^Ahem!” 

“After that you’d nat’rally think Flora haint in 
it, but that’s where you’re mistaken. She’s just 
’bout Virginia’s size but you forgits ’bout Virgie’s 
black eyes when she turns those blue orbs on you. 
She’s prettier ’n a June apple on a cake stand! 
Her face roun’ an’ plump, with cheeks an’ lips as 
bright as said apple, an’ when you sees those dark 
fringe of eye-lashes sweepin’ on her cheeks you 
’spects her to look at you through black eyes. 
But, my! no! They’s as blue as the sky on a 
June day, with the same summer thunder an’ 
lightin’ running through them when she’s angry. 
I’ve seen that already, ’deed I have. But after 
the storm how they brightens up, I’ve seen that, 
too. 

“I used to think Virgie a spit-fire, but ’t was 
afore I knew Flora. It’s sort of worn outern 
Virgie, I wonder why? I always think a little 
spirit good in a woman. She’s mighty good an’ 
honest though, but so is Flora. I wonder after 


A CONFESSION 


375 


all which out the two I’d picked out — if I was 
on the fly?” 

For the last minute, Silas had been searching 
all his pockets for a chew of tobacco. Finding the 
bit of twist in the lining of his coat, he ripped the 
seam with his pocket knife and succeeded in ex- 
tricating it. He bit off a mouthful and put the 
remaining piece carefully away in another pocket, 
then kept on his way which was to his ^^General 
Store.” His last exclamation as he thought of the 
girls was: 

^^By gosh ! what wives they’ll make ! Why haint 
Bud and the Captain got their eyes skinned like 
me!” 

Back on the rustic seat, Virginia had raised 
anchor and was preparing Flora for something 
that was not at all clear to her, though Flora, on 
the alert, was endeavoring to encourage her friend 
by lending sympathetic ears, wondering all the 
time for what point she was heading. 

‘Tlora, do you remember before iDan went 
away,” she paused long enough for Flora to put in 
^Tes?” 

‘^Before Dan went away to New York, I sat here 
with you and told you of our plans?” 

‘Tes, dear.” 


376 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


“We have never spoken of them since, have 
we?^^ 

“No, Virginia.” 

“For many reasons known to us both — that is 
some of them.” She heaved a deep sigh and con- 
tinued : 

“Flora, it was hard for me to hear you speak 
of Dan’s neglect of me. Had anyone else ever 
mentioned it to you?” 

Flora did not answer. 

“Well, it does not matter, but at the time you 
forced me to own that it was a source of poignant 
disappointment to me. But everything seemed to 
go on well for a short time until we witnessed his 
harsh treatment of his mother, not to say his cruel 
treatment.” 

“Well, that has been righted, Virgie, and what- 
ever Dan’s and his father’s faults towards Mrs. 
Douglas, they have atoned nobly for them. They 
deserve credit for that much.” 

“Yes, Flora, but I see you are sa 3 dng that to 
keep from hurting my feelings. Dan should never 
have forgotten that the poor frail woman who 
spoke so pitifully was his mother. The fact that 
he showed rudeness to a woman, whoever she was, 
goes to prove that he might do so again.” 

“You’re right, Virgie, I was afraid to wound 


A CONFESSION 


377 


your feeling now that everything is going on 
so beautifully for you. But since you mentioned 
it, I believe Dan acted horribly. Can you imagine 
Bud or Captain Frangois speaking so to their 
mother?'' 

^‘No, I could not help contrasting, then and 
there, Captain Frangois's tender recollections of 
his childhood and his father, who was so unneces- 
sarily harsh with him, and Dan's — Oh ! you do not 
know how I suffered from the shame of it all!" 

After a short pause Virginia continued : 

‘^However, I loved Dan truly, and tried hard to 
find some excuse for his conduct. I appealed to 
him the night he was leaving for New York. But 
it is not to speak of that, I am confiding in you." 

Flora's eyes opened wider and wider with Vir- 
ginia's every remark. 

^^Flora, you saw me dance with Dan the other 
night, but did you notice how silent he was? Do 
you know that since his return he was over to see 
me but twice — and stayed but a few minutes each 
time, always pleading business? Yesterday he 
met me by accident and he proposed we be mar- 
ried on Thursday next. I told him I would re- 
quire time to think it over. This did not seem to 
nettle him at all, and he wei^t away perfectly 
satisfied." 


378 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


'Tou want to tell me youVe made up your 
mind? I have no right to interfere further with 
you, Virgie.” 

^‘Nothing anyone could say would cause me to 
change my decision. My mind is made up/^ 

“And that means 

“That I cannot marry him.^^ 

“Virginia!’' and Flora’s arms were about her 
friend. 

“No, his coldness and other things about him, 
that I cannot explain, everything have finally suc- 
ceeded in killing my love for him.” 

“Oh, how unhappy you must feel.” 

“Not at all, I have no regrets, except to be 
humiliated in admitting to you that I have been 
a fool all these years. And now I see that all along 
my friends — ” 

“Hush, Virgie, your friends are only too happy 
that your engagement is broken off in time.” 

“I asked you a while ago, Flora, if anyone had 
ever made remarks about Dan’s indifference to me. 
I should be so pained and still I want to know. 
Has — Captain Frangois ever spoken of it?” 

“Never.” 

The relief the prompt answer brought to Vir- 
ginia’s mind and heart was so apparent in her 


A CONFESSION 


379 


eyes that Florals next question was out before she 
could recall it: 

''Why did you ask that?” 

The tell-tale blush on Virginia’s face was equiv- 
alent to a confession that she valued the Cap- 
tain’s regard above all others. She bit her lips but 
tears welled in her eyes and she covered her face 
with her hands. 

"Virgie, why should you be ashamed to own up 
when Captain Frangois worships the ground you 
walk on? I have seen in his eyes the same light 
that lit up yours when you spoke his name just 
now.” 

"Flora, I cannot help it. I never knew it at the 
time, but I have been loving the Captain ever 
since his relapse and I know now, by the way I 
love him that I never loved Dan Douglas. It is 
difficult to confess this truth to you. Flora. I once 
thought you — loved — Captain Frangois.” 

"It is strange, Virgie, but I, too, have a con- 
fession to make: I loved Captain Frangois until 
his relapse.” 

Virginia nestled up closely to her friend and 
looked straight into her eyes. 

"Is that the gospel truth?” 

"Yes.” 


380 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


‘‘And what brought about the change — so sud- 
denly?” 

“I discovered he would never love me, be- 
cause — ” 

“Because?” 

“He loves you.” 

“And you can still be happy, Flora?” 

“I expect to be loved some day by someone 
meant for me. It was hard to bring myself to this 
point but I finally succeeded and now my dearest 
wish is that he might win you — for his wife.” 

“Flora! but I do not expect him to love me. I 
suppose you think me very bold. Ever since I 
found out my mistake I’ve been censuring myself 
for loving the Captain while technically engaged 
to another.” 

“I’m glad you used the word technically for it 
expresses the situation exactly; it was the most 
hollow, soulless engagement I ever heard of, or 
read of.” The last phrase was put in as an after- 
thought. 

“Please understand me. Flora. I tell you I love 
Captain Frangois. I meant to keep it secret, for 
he has never given me the least hint of a cause 
for my feelings, but somehow I could not hide it 
from you. Oh! I would die before I’d let him 
suspect it.” 


A CONFESSION 


381 


*‘I should believe that I had shown him my 
heart and that out of pity to me he — might pro- 
pose/^ 

^‘You do the Captain an injustice. He is in- 
capable of deceiving anyone.” 

‘^Ah yes; I know, but he might deceive himself, 
then indeed I should be unhappy.” 

^^But have I not told you that he loves you?” 

“Oh, Flora! how can I allow you to speak thus 
when you admit that — ?” 

Tears and laughter mingled like rain and sun- 
shine in April, and the friends finally spoke of 
something else, as Virginia declared herself ready 
at any time to sacrifice her feelings and love for 
her friend. 

“That’s for the Captain to decide,” said Flora. 

“I hope that won’t be for some time — ^yet,” 
whispered Virgie in her friend’s ear. 

“Let’s talk business. This morning, I sent Dan 
a note, giving my reasons for breaking our engage- 
ment — for refusing to marry him — all except the 
one relating to his mother. Here is his reply.” 

She drew out of her pocket a single sheet of 
paper. 

It read: 


382 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


“I simply made my proposition to secure my release. A 
word of advice: do not consider a certain pauper. You are 
worthy of a home. 

“Whom do you suppose he means?” 

“A pauper!” repeated Flora, slowly scanning 
the lines. “He means Frangois, Captain Fran- 
gois.” 

“But he isn’t a pauper. He owns these lands.” 

“Nevertheless, that’s who he means,” said Flora 
firmly. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


A BARRIER. 

Bonne Terre was soon astir with strange men 
and the excitement attendant upon the develop- 
ment work in progress. Great things were ex- 
pected to result from the opening up of the strata 
far below. The few inhabitants and even men 
from afar came to see. Some said it was a thing 
unfounded — lead hundreds of feet below surface. 
In Missouri, at least, lead could be secured only 
in surface pockets. But the majority believed 
that if lead existed on the surface, it might be far 
more abundant underneath where no man was 
able to see and measure. 

The buzz and bustle grew while all else was for- 
gotten. 

Again Captain Frangois recuperated but this 
time he used care to exercise reasonably until his 
wounds were quite healed. By and by he, too, 
joined the throngs that looked on from morning to 
night, hoping that each sounding would open up 
great beds of ore. After a time he became as 


384 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Btrong as ever. He believed in the mines and 
watched feverishly every foot of hoistings. 

While all this hubbub occupied everybody, 
Frangois, though no less enthusiastic than other 
people who might own adjacent lands, meditated 
more upon the promptings of his inner emotions, 
and seemed to be more concerned with them than 
with the possession of lands and houses. Proba- 
bly it could be said, and in just verity, that Fran- 
gois was not a keen business man. It was not be- 
cause of lack of energy and ambition, but simply 
because to all appearance, he lacked the burning 
lead for business prowess which forces men to go 
on from one commercial achievement to another. 
Perhaps it was the strict law of heredity that made 
him more inclined to martial tendencies than the 
ordinary, in a way, sordid routine for gain. Al- 
though feverishly interested in the future of the 
mines, he was lax in his own interests to the ex- 
tent of never having inquired after his titles or 
troubled about the payment of taxes. He ac- 
quiesced in the mining company's seeing about 
these things. Consequently, it was in harmony 
with his makeup to find himself absorbed in the 
beautiful rather than the practical, and to lose 
himself in sentimental musings when othen 
counted an increase in land values. 


A BARRIER 


385 


In such men as Captain Frangois there is a high- 
ly developed sense of honor, and often an ab- 
normal sense, which leads them into bypaths to- 
tally unknown to the plain every day business men 
who move as centers of their own little worlds. 

It is, therefore, not surprising that when Bonne 
Terre bestirred itself in sundry undertakings, the 
Captain fell to thinking of affairs of the heart and 
wondered whether it would be honorable or not to 
tell Virginia of his feelings towards her, in view 
of her lukewarm engagement to Dan Douglas. A 
casual remark from Bud Dade had led Frangois to 
believe that the engagement was broken off, but 
as Virginia, since the episode in the woods, never 
mentioned Dan’s name, Frangois felt a delicacy 
about speaking to her of her lover at all, although 
he was besides himself with hope. 

jBut what to Frangois was the great bar which 
his acute sense of honor could not surmount was 
the cloud that rested on his father’s fair name. 
While he believed with his whole soul in his 
father’s integrity, he could not suppress public 
opinion, though founded on silly rumors. Should 
he ever speak to Virginia, he must offer her the 
imtarnished name his father once bore. In addi- 
tion to the mystery which had at all times hung 
over Paul Frangois on account of his secluded 


386 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


mode of living, there was now the rumor that he 
appeared on his grave as if something disturbed 
the repose of his soul. Virginia was too level- 
headed to give credence to every idle tale she 
might hear, of that Frangois was certain, but still 
what might she not think when creditable evi- 
dence declared that a man — it mattered not who — 
had been seen on the double grave, and vanished 
either in space or into the ground? True or false, 
that was the report, and a certain portion of the 
inhabitants believed the tale. Only a very few 
were original inhabitants who had known Paul 
and Frangois personally. They were among those 
who had given their solemn word not to speak of 
their dead friends, but what promise could hold 
good in the face of such apparitions? So, Fran- 
gois declared to himself that until he could explain 
away the mystery, he must not confess his love to 
Virginia. 

It had seemed to Frangois, when after an ab- 
sence of ten years he returned to Bonne Terre and 
found his father and mother gone from him, that 
after hearing, at Dade’s Inn, Donald Douglas’s 
story on that ever memorable night, it would be 
an easy task to get from the old man another and 
clearer version of the tale which, from certain 
coinciding points appeared to concern his father. 


A BARRIER 


387 


But now, after years of acquaintance with the 
elder Douglas, he failed altogether in his purpose. 
In Dan Douglas, he could read deceit to confirm 
the hints of treachery given him at different times, 
first by Basil, then later by Theresa, although he 
had never been able to convince himself that it 
was so. Here, again he was handicapped by the 
high sense of honor which forbade him think evil 
of his rival, thereby giving him the benefits of all 
doubts. But Donald Douglas had ever after that 
one break in his armor of genial stolidity been a 
living impersonation of respectability and dignity 
which Frangois never had the courage to assail. 
As for Theresa, while there was no doubt that she 
held some mysterious connection with his father’s 
past, her violent liking for Frangois had forced him 
away from her. It was only after battling with 
himself that he consented to give her away at the 
rewedding. There, once more, was evidence of 
the stratum of innate chivalry which ran through 
his nature, for it required great self-will for him 
to control his aversion. He had never referred to 
her, not even to his old friend. Uncle Si. Her age 
and feebleness defended her against both men. 

Still, Captain Frangois loved Virginia so ardent- 
ly that he could not forego her company. Before 
his illness he was able to exercise some restraint 


388 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


on himself, but now that seeing her daily had be- 
come a habit he did not realize the danger that lay 
therein until too late, and now the new hope that 
lighted the future, however distant, lured him on- 
ward in the same course. After he was sufficiently 
recovered to walk to her home and Florals he 
spent half of his time wandering about the neigh- 
borhood with the girls, then they took to longer 
walks over and about the surrounding hills. They 
were like happy children, evincing no shyness, and 
yet no familiarity. No one in the town seemed 
to comment on this stranger friendship which 
many might have criticized. The fact is that both 
girls stood too high in the community for anyone 
to indulge in incorrect thoughts of their conduct. 
Frangois^s unfortunate accident had gained him 
immunity from further gossip and many hearts 
had softened towards him. 

Flora who had loved Frangois, and still loved 
him in a way, consigned him cheerfully to her 
bosom friend. Virginia, — was it because the Cap- 
tain still ignored himself loved by the woman he 
worshipped? — was now the chief object of Flora’s 
solicitude. To advance her cause she schemed 
night and day. 

Being ignorant of the Captain’s complications 
of the case. Flora afte giving him every oppor- 


A BARRIER 


389 


tunity to talk to Virginia was surprised to find 
them neglected. She would gladly have spoken to 
him of the broken engagement, but Virginia had 
made her vow secrecy, so she trusted to chance to 
enlighten the Captain. 

While Jean Francois was watching the develop- 
ment of the mines. Bud Dade, with a full measure 
of American business acumen surging through his 
veins, threw his lot in with the new Syndicate. His 
days were spent in driving the drill, and later on, 
in superintending the entire development work in 
one section. But of evenings, since there was 
nowhere else to go, and especially as no more con- 
genial associates were to be found anywhere, he ac- 
companied the Captain to Mrs. BardsdelFs or Mrs. 
Birsch’s, and the four friends passed the time 
either on the lawn under starlit skies, or walked 
across the commons, very often far out on the 
hills. 

On one of these pleasurable excursions, an un- 
fortunate experience put farther away from Fran- 
gois than even he had thought possible, all inten- 
tion of declaring his love to Virginia. 

One evening after dinner, the friendly quartet 
wandered away from the village, and as it had 
been a sultry day, they climbed to the summit of 
Blue Hill to catch a whiff of cooler breezes. The 


390 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


night was favored with quietude and a profligate 
flood of soft light which fell from a full moon cast 
a gentle radiance over the scenery. Hour after 
hour they walked, laughing and talking together 
while the sky became overcast with great, rolling 
white clouds and just a suspicion of a gathering 
rain bank in the west. Now and again the broad 
grin of the moon was eclipsed by a flying, snowlike 
puff, and, although the young people were not 
very far from home, the outdoor revelers started 
to return. 

Bud and Flora volunteered to lead the way — 
because Bud said it was a new path, as if any 
path or trail could be new to Francois. But such 
companionships take passing delight in whims, 
and the Captain and Virginia smilingly acquiesced. 
Naturally some space intervened in the marching 
line, augmented again and again by the slower 
pace Francois was forced to maintain on account 
of his not too robust condition. Soon the gap of 
convention widened until the buzz of voices ahead 
could scarcely be discernible to Frangois and Vir- 
ginia so they walked on unconcerned through the 
open woods totally oblivious of the “new path” 
they were supposed to follow. 

As if by magic, a dark mist sprawled across the 
heavens, plunging the Captain and his companion 


A BARRIER 


391 


into darkness with the rest of the world. They 
were in no way alarmed, indeed there was no oc- 
casion for fear, as either could have found his way 
back to the house blindfolded. However, Bud sent 
up a loud whistle to which Francois replied, and he 
urged Virginia forward to catch up with their 
friends, but in order to do so they strayed into 
briar thickets. By and by they found themselves 
under the spreading oak Paul Frangois loved so 
well. 

The Captain remarked: 

‘'Do you know that since Father left me a mes- 
sage about this tree, it seems to be a link between 
my dead parents and me. Dad wished me to 
protect it and always remember his fondness for 
it.’^ 

“We must come here oftener,” said Virgina, “for 
since youVe mentioned it there seems to be a 
peculiar charm about this venerable oak.” 

Frangois was touched by the delicacy of her re- 
mark, and paused a few seconds to glance up at 
the strong limbs that supported a network of in- 
terlacing twigs and patches of foliage. 

Just then a peal of thunder, followed by a series 
of flashes of lightning rent the heavy stillness of 
the air and lighted up every nook about. The 
girl and the man found themselves looking straight 


392 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


at the grim old stone chimney that stood guard 
over the grave of Paul and Helen FranQois, and 
as they looked suddenly a stooped form appeared 
in the underbrush nearby and moved stealthily to 
the wall about the tomb. It strided over, and, for 
a moment, stood on the mound over the grave. 
There followed a brief space of complete darkness, 
then a guttural boom of thunder caused Virginia 
to clutch Frangois’s arm and she shuddered. The 
lightning flashed again shortly, and although less 
than a half minute had elapsed between the previ- 
ous flash and the last, the form on the tomb was 
no longer to be seen. 

Frangois was still with amazement, — only for a 
few seconds. He pushed Virginia from him and 
made a rush forward. But Virginia ran after him 
and pulled him by the arm. 

^^After all, Frangois, it must be true!’^ she cried, 
^^it must be — ^your father!” She was trembling 
like a leaf. ^‘Come, lePs hurry away,” she pleaded. 

The rest of the way home was a panic-stricken 
flight. Frangois could barely keep up with Vir- 
ginia. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


THE REVELATION. 

Jean FRANgois was fast learning that success 
cannot be attained without painful effort. Though 
patient in suffering; in the face of disappointment 
fighting on because^he saw ahead an all-powerful 
hand ready to be grasped by earnest exertion, 
still, at times, it seemed to him that his trials in 
Bonne Terre reached the extreme limit of his en- 
durance. From childhood, nothing in his native 
hills turned to his good, so he had left, but the 
call of the backwoods brought him back, and now, 
another, more powerful yet, beckoned him onward. 
What greed and even ordinary ambition failed to 
accomplish was to be wrought through a different 
agency, considered infallible, — love. 

After standing with Virginia, and seeing the 
man of mystery — the spirit — emerge from the 
shadows and stand on the grave, he accompanied 
Virginia home and bade her good-night in a list- 
less, abstracted way. He was too preoccupied to 
discuss the experience with his companion, who. 


S93 


394 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


moreover, was too excited to look at the occur- 
rence from a reasonable point of view. So, he had 
finally seen the specter that alarmed the neighbor- 
hood. Since he did not believe it was a spirit then 
it was a man. In Francois’s opinion that was a 
great point gained. He could easily understand 
that the majority of the people about thought it a 
spirit on account of the suddenness of its disap- 
pearance, and very willingly forgave Virginia for 
thinking likewise, fully convinced as he was that 
the next day she would be ready to abjure her 
theory of a ghost and most probably feel ashamed 
of having entertained the idea for a minute. But 
whatever the conclusion she reached, Frangois was 
quite decided that he would not ask her to remain 
silent on the subject. His pride forbade him. 
The only real effect Frangois’s trials had upon him 
was that, — perhaps it resulted from the nature of 
his trials — he became extremely sensitive whefre 
he was concerned and always saw a point of honor 
involved. He forgave Virginia, but he felt hurt. 

Under the circumstances, as he could not pos- 
sibly explain to her the appearance nor the dis- 
appearance, Frangois determined that he would 
discontinue his visits at Virginia’s home until he 
solved the mystery. 

This time he did not go to Basil. 


THE REVELATION 


395 


Brooding over the matter that vexed and wor- 
ried him made him silent and unsociable. Flora 
and Bud wondered and feared some misunder- 
standing must have arisen between him and Vir- 
ginia since he stopped calling on her. Virginia, 
on her side, was strangely quiet and kept out of 
reach of her chum. 

Frangois came to the conclusion that one more 
disastrous experience might render his residence 
in Bonne Terre intolerable. Not because he 
wanted to leave, on the contrary, he was more 
anxious than ever to remain. Many a night found 
him in the vicinity of the great oak, puzzling over 
the mystery and hoping for a recurrence of what 
had happened, with him the stole witness. But 
if it was going to prove an everlasting source of 
torment to him and his friends, what then? 

In the midst of his meditations following sever- 
al days of close watching in the small hours of 
the night, Dan Douglas who of late awaited an 
opportunity of speaking with Frangois came up to 
him one morning and proposed a little hunt. The 
Captain was more than surprised, as he knew by 
intuition that Dan cared as little for him as posa- 
ble, but a man in mental misery often chooses 
strange companions. Frangois accepted, and the 
two shouldered rifles and went off up the hollow. 


396 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


When a short distance from the Inn, Dan said: 

“I brought plenty of ammunition to last some 
time and I have blankets. It^s early in the season 
but I feel like having a couple days' rest. I hope 
you're of the same mind." 

Beyond assenting, Frangois did not speak. He 
longed for the hills and kept his gaze fastened on 
them. 

On they went until the ridge of Dry Bones 
lifted them above the village, where they could 
see two dozen men at work about the mines. The 
chug-chug of the drills sent up a series of confused 
sounds with twice repeated echoes. Dan turned 
around and reminded Frangois that possibly the 
steel bits were eating into one of the greatest beds 
of wealth yet found in the world. 

“But I'm glad to get away. No one knows I'm 
off with you, Captain, unless you told old Dade. 
Did you?" 

“He saw me pass out with my rifle, but asked 
no questions!" 

“Well, I've worked hard enough to take a rest. 

I tell you, I had a time to get those Easterners to 
put up the money. I came near giving up a time 
or two, but I held on and succeeded. Now that the 
last dollar is up, and Dad and Birsch have the 
spending of it I wash my hands of the business, in 


THE REVELATION 


397 


a way. Bud Dade knows better than any man at 
work there how to make every stroke of his ham- 
mer count. I^m quite willing to give others full 
swing.’' 

Francois stroked his rifle reflectively as they 
rested a while. 

‘^Yes/’ said he, ‘‘you’ve done a great work and 
deserve credit and I suppose a rest also. I’m wil- 
ling to go. All day yesterday I fought the call 
of the hills, so when you proposed going I was the 
man you were looking for.” He looked at his 
companion and wondered : “Perhaps he will speak 
of — Virginia.” Then his brows contracted: “I’d 
rather not, he might speak carelessly in which case 
— but what could he say of her? No, I should 
never think of asking him if it was she broke off 
the engagement.” 

“Well, suppose we cross the river and make for 
Primrose Creek. That’s a cracking good spot for 
shooting, and in case we kill several deer, it wiU 
be easy to get them brought in by the woodmen 
in the valleys.” 

“That suits me. I haven’t been that way since 
before the war, and excepting Shannon County, 
we shall see there the finest scenery in Missouri.” 

“I don’t care a rap for such things as scenery. 
I hear you’re always on the lookout for it.” 


398 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


am. Scenery rests the mind.’’ 

After all the Captain was drawn into conversa- 
tion. 

‘T never think of it,” said Dan. 

^^Have you been over to Birsch Town way in 
recent years?” 

“No, Captain. I haven’t been there since Dad 
and I first came to this part of the world. Do you 
remember hearing we got lost in those hills five 
days?” 

“It’s a fine place to get lost in. I wish I could 
find one where that might happen to me, and 
where there wouldn’t be anyone to put me straight 
again — for some time.” 

“Hadn’t you better not travel too much the 
first day, or are you quite strong again? I heard 
Uncle Si say Doctor Keith warned you against 
those ugly wounds in your chest.” 

FranQois looked at Dan surprised to hear him 
speak so. Was there after all a kinder streak 
running through him than he gave him credit for? 
But the remembrance of Dan’s cruelty to his 
mother sent a suspicion of distrust through his 
mind. He did not answer for a while. Then 
hating to appear churlish he replied: 

“I shall look out for myself. On that account 


THE REVELATION 


399 


I suggest that we take the creek bottom after we 
pass yonder backbone/’ 

‘‘Anything for your comfort, Captain,” said Dan 
in a patronizing voice highly distasteful to Fran- 
gois. This time he let the conversation drop. 

Towards night the hunters entered Primrose 
Gorge, seven miles due north of Bonne Terre. 
They were not particularly tired but had exercised 
sufficiently while sauntering along through the 
woods to beget good appetites. The thing upper- 
most in the minds of both men was to light a fire 
for the night. 

A little reconnoitering led them to discover a 
spring of crystal water gushing from under an 
overhanging cliff, and there they decided to camp. 
A fire lighted against the stone wall provided 
warmth with a minimum of smoke. A half dozen 
squirrels, bagged en route, were barbecued over 
the flames, and a little ash cake made by mixing 
a small quantity of cornmeal with water and 
cooking it in the hot ashes. That quite sufficed 
to satisfy their hunger. 

This done and the meal over, the two men filled 
their pipes and stretched themselves out by the 
bed of live coals. 

Whatever Frangois’s private opinion of Dan, 
and he always combatted his feelings towards 


400 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Donald Douglas's son and Virginia's fiance, there 
had never been a day when the two men were on 
such bad terms that they did not speak to each 
other. So, on this occasion, Frangois was pre- 
pared to make the best of his company. 

Evil men need a good man's counsel. Dan's 
purpose included more than a peaceful hunt. 

So, while they lay by the fire, Dan related 
events of his stay in New York and went on to 
speak of the reconciliation between his fatl\er and 
mother. But of that he spoke reservedly. The 
main topic of conversation was life in the great 
metropolis, and his description and comments 
threw many interesting side-lights on his charac- 
ter which held the Captain's attention. The lat- 
ter spoke mostly in monosyllables, just enough to 
encourage his companion. 

While the hunters refreshed themselves thus, 
neither of them saw a third man raise his eyes 
above a log just opposite Dan Douglas. He 
seemed fascinated by the study of Dan's features 
as he related to Frangois his experience in New 
York. This man had a wiry, short gray beard, 
streaked down the chin from each corner of the 
mouth by oozing streams of tobacco juice. He 
wore a slouch hat, the entire front brim pinned to 
the crown with a wooden splint. His jaw was 


THE REVELATION 


401 


broad and squared out his chin hippopotamus 
fashion. But despite the savagery stamped on 
his features, there were some redeeming, or at 
least, palliating characteristics about them that 
would make the observer look at the man a second 
time to make sure that he had not been judged 
too harshly. This last scrutiny revealed honesty 
and steadfastness of purpose — though of the bull- 
dog sort — that would continue unyielding until 
complete success was attained. 

Dan and Frangois were not conscious of being 
followed about for more than an hour before they 
stopped to camp. From tree to tree and rock to 
rock, this apparent monstrosity of a man slided 
about, crouching and hiding, that he might get a 
look at the men's faces. Then a sullen look dark- 
ened his eyes as they fixed themselves on Dan, as 
he kept step with the hunters whose faces were at 
times hidden by the thick hazel brush and the un- 
dergrowth along the trail. From his outpost by 
the log the man could examine at his leisure. An 
expression of doubt replaced the sullenness in his 
eyes, then after observing his clean shaven face for 
a few minutes longer, Zach Keen, the hippopota- 
mus-faced man shook his head and slunk away. 

He climbed the steep hill wearily and looked in 
the direction of the column of smoke that rose 


402 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


straight up from a big, squatting chimney. He 
could see the rough shingles of the roof, painted 
red, peeping through interstices in the thick foli- 
age of the surrounding trees. A dark look again 
clouded his eyes which a minute before, though 
tired, shone clear gray — they gave the key-note 
to the man^s character. He took off his coat, made 
it into a bundle which he used for a pillow as he 
lay at full length on the ground. Whenever the 
present mood came over Zack Keen it always 
presaged the review of the cause and effects which 
had brought him into the wilderness of the hills 
as he called the country about — ^he was a man of 
the plains and closer settlements. A man had 
abused his hospitality, a man unknown to him, 
who had come in his absence, and because of this 
unknown man though none of his family were at 
fault, Zack Keen had seen fit to abandon a com- 
fortable home in the South, swearing that he 
would never return to it until he found the scoun- 
drel who had worked mischief in his household. 
It would be difficult to guess precisely the nature 
of the evil done without its being fully explained 
by an unprejudiced party, for Zack Keen’s touchy 
conception of family honor often drove him to 
great lengths. This time he chose to work out 
the troublesome chapter of his home life in his 


THE REVELATION 


403 


own peculiar way, wife, daughter, and two sons 
powerless to hinder him. They had followed him 
to the hills, because it was his opinion that he 
would find the transgressor somewhere about De 
Soto. 

Late that night. Keen returned home. He ate 
his supper in silence. 

Once the meal was over, he called his daughter 
to him and said: 

‘‘Katie, describe hiip again. Make me see his 
face as you saw it.^^ Then with a scowl he added : 
“Not as it was but the way is must look now. 
Think hard.^" 

Katie stole a glance at her mother. 

“She already told you, Zack. Don^t torment 
her.'^ 

“Make me see his face, Katie.^’ 

There was no evading. Only once before had 
he made that request, and it was when he thought 
he had found his man. Mrs. Keen knew there 
must be something new, and so did the boys who 
sat near the table cleaning their guns. All the 
family was obsessed with the idea of finding the 
rascal who had been the cause of their leaving 
their home. Only Katie was listless. 

“What's the use, Father?" Her large blue eyes 
gazed at space. 


404 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


"Do as your father wishes, Katie, insisted her 
mother. 

"I shall, Father, if you promise me, that when 
you find him you’ll bring him here — to me. I 
tell you there’s some mistake. He must be dead. 
I know you’ll not find him, what’s the use?” And 
tears filled her eyes. 

Zack Keen arose and placing his big, horny 
hands on the girl’s shoulders forced her back to 
the wall. 

"Will you tell me?” he thundered. 

Katie went over the description, shuddering at 
each item that seemed to coincide with whatever 
notion her father had in his mind. 

"Tall, but not so tall as Bob, more like Jim, 
only his shdulders are broad and he holds himself 
like a general. He is handsome. Father, oh! so 
handsome. His eyes are blue, his mustache black 
turning to reddish brown at the tips. His hair is 
dark and wavy, and his skin is very fine though 
sunburned a little as a man’s should be.” 

"A man!” growled her father. 

"And does he walk with a springy step?” 

"Yes; but how do you know that?” 

"And he has a glib tongue?” 

"Y — es; I think so.” 

Zack Keen turned to hig wife. 


THE REVELATION 


405 


^^Did she make you see him as you saw him — 
then?” 

The mother said the description was correct. 

^Tromise me, Father,” pleaded Katie. 

But Keen made no promise. He meant to do as 
he liked — no more and no less. 

*^Jim, Bob, call me at four in the morning. And 
be ready to go with me. That’s right, shine up 
your guns inside and out.” 

This command electrified the boys, but Keen 
would not stand for any excitement. He retired 
to the porch and as he puffed away at his pipe he 
recalled the face of the man he saw from above the 
log. It was framed in dark wavy hair but — . 

He stopped there. 

Katie crept up to her small room under the roof 
and in the middle of her preparations for the night 
she stopped and threw herself on her knees with 
her head resting on the bed. She remained thus 
all night, praying for the unknown man pursued 
by her father’s vengeance. Would that she might 
have forgotten his face as he seemed to have for- 
gotten hers. 

'*Dear God, I know he’s dead!” she sobbed over 
and again, but she had misgivings and trembled 
lest her father might succeed this time. If only 


406 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


he had promised her what she asked. She did not 
like the look in his eyes. 

Along in the morning, before daybreak, Captain 
Frangois was awakened by the popping of a dry 
stick down on the river. He sat up and listened. 
Evidently some animal was picking its way 
through the thicket. *Tt must be a deer,” he 
thought. He shook Dan and told him to get up 
and be on the lookout, but Dan turned over on 
his side and said : 

“I told you I want a rest. Let me sleep. The 
day’s long enough for hunting.” 

Frangois slipped on his boots, took his rifle, and 
went off to hunt the disturber of his dreams. 

But there was nothing to be seen. All he got 
for his pains was a wetting from the dew on the 
bushes as he struggled through, so after a half 
hour’s search, he made his way back to the dying 
embers of their fire. 

He walked up quietly to avoid awakening Dan, 
and as he reached him he started at the sight of a 
big, burly man half standing, half crouching over 
the sleeper, a long knife held above him. Two 
younger men stood in the background with shoul- 
dered rifles. Frangois was sure the man with the 
knife meant to strike. He did not hesitate but 
fired at once, bringing the big fellow down in a 


THE REVELATION 


407 


heap. The men standing back took to their heels. 

At the sound of the shot the terrified Dan 
sprang up and ran to Francois’s side. 

The man who was no other than our new ac- 
quaintance Keen, groaned loudly and Frangois 
spoke to Dan who at the sound of the man’s 
voice was preparing to run away. 

“Stay here and help me. He is helpless as you 
can see. The man must be out of his mind.” 

Zack looked at Frangois angrily in spite of his 
sufferings which must have been very acute; al- 
though not wounded mortally there was no doubt 
that he must be in terrible pain. Frangois had 
not intended to hurt him too badly and succeeded 
in just making him helpless, — both arms were 
broken. Keen’s surprise had been so great that 
he had given himself up for dead, he thought him- 
self fatally wounded. 

“Call my sons,” he gasped. 

“What do you mean? Why would you have 
killed him?” asked Frangois pointing to Dan. 

“I did not mean to kill him. My sons and I 
came to capture him, and — ^you, too, if need be,” 
and the gray eyes glowered under his shaggy eye- 
brows. 

^^What do you call those sons of yours?” asked 


408 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Frangois. ^^Call them yourself, and call them 
quickly.” He covered Keen with his gun. 

Keen called loudly, assuring Jim and Bob that 
no harm would befall them and to come to his 
help. 

The young men were not far off, and but for the 
fact that Frangois had kept his gun aimed at Keen 
most of the time, either he or Dan would have 
been fired at. 

They approached. 

^^Drop your guns,” called Frangois, ^^and attend 
to your father^s wounds. They are not serious. 
I^m sorry, in a way, but there was no alternative 
left me. I had to fire and quickly, too.” 

The young men stood stock still. 

“Why don’t you do something?” urged Fran- 
gois, “take something, here take my shirt and bind 
his arms.” He made a movement to divest him- 
self of the garment in question when one of the 
boys forestalled him. 

“All right,” said Frangois, “where do you live?” 

“A half mile over the hill,” answered Jim. 

“Now, I want to know what’s this all about. 
Why did your father sneak thus upon us — upon 
my companion?” 

Keen replied: 

“As a Southern gentleman, I give you my word 


THE REVELATION 


409 


that neither of you will be harmed. Fm your 
captive and I'm wounded, but if you and that man 
will come with me to my house you will under- 
stand. Sons, I want you to give this gentleman 
your word that you will not play foul with him 
and the other one neither." 

Jim and Bob held up their right hand. 

^^You can do what you like," said Dan to Fran- 
cois, ‘‘but I’m not going. It is out of the ques- 
tion." 

Francois turned on his fellow huntsman: 

“Dan Douglas, gather up the blankets while I 
help these boys. We go to this man’s house. I’m 
going to sift this matter through." 

Dan did not move. 

“You’ll do as I say," and Francois spoke angrily. 
“Why do you stand there trembling like a wet 
dog? Get ready, quick. Put on your boots." 

Instead of losing his temper at Francois’s com- 
mands he remonstrated weakly: 

“Do you think I’m going to walk into their 
trap — after he tried to kill me? You’re losing 
your head, Francois." 

“Suit yourself, then. I’m going, but you turn 
back at the risk of your life. Francois addressed 
himself to Keen : 

“Although I’ve promised to accompany you to 


410 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


your house I must confess that I think this a most 
extraordinary proceeding/' 

^^Wait until you hear my story — at the house/' 
said Keen between groans. ^^But this man," point- 
ing to Dan, ‘‘must come." 

“We will both accompany you," replied Fran- 
gois. 

“But if he gets away — " 

“I'll shoot him if he tries." 

Dan looked fiercely at Frangois and the latter 
read murder in the depths of his eyes but he did 
not mind. He knew Dan would follow so he led 
the way. 

It seemed that the incident had aroused Fran- 
gois’s curiosity, making him sharp and almost vin- 
dictive in pursuing his object, which was to get to 
the bottom of this mystery. He knew he had an 
advantage on Dan in having saved his life and 
meant to take advantage of the fact. This was 
scarcely consistent with the strict code he had al- 
ways followed in his relations with his rival, but 
on the other hand this strange man affected him 
strangely, and though he might at some time or 
other wonder why he acted as he did, nevertheless 
he was determined to see this business through 
once for all. 

As for Dan he was tortured by fear, and the ex- 


THE REVELATION 


411 


perience he had just gone through unnerved him, 
leaving him at the mercy of one with a stronger 
will than his. As he knew Francois was in the 
dark about the occurrence he was willing to put 
the Captain's stubborness, as he called it, to the 
test more than hoping that his temerity might be 
punished. 

‘Tf he'd been in my place,” thought Dan, ‘‘he 
would be willing enough to call it quits and not 
place his head in the lion's mouth.” 

On the way up the hill to Zack Keen's tempor- 
ary home, Francois plied the old man with ques- 
tions. 

“Since there were three of you, and only one to 
be taken, why did you creep up with a knife, if you 
did not intend to murder him?” 

“I meant to frighten him into immediate sur- 
render, that was all, on my word of honor.” 

“Then what did you intend to do next?” 

“Bind him, and take him home with me to show 
him off as a worthless coward that he is.” 

“Take care, Mr. Keen, if you are not able to 
prove what you are saying you will get into trou- 
ble. I am seeing this business to the end, but if 
you are guilty — ” 

“Just wait and you will see.” 

Dan shuddered and whimpered: 


412 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


*T tell you the fellow is out of his mind. Better 
turn back, Frangois, while there is yet time.” 

''Young man, turn at your peril,” said Keen. 

"Put down those guns,” commanded Frangois, 
"I thought you understood I gave my word for 
myself and companion.” 

"We have no fear where you are concerned, be- 
sides I have no business with you,” said the old 
man, "it is your friend. However, boys, obey 
him.” 

Jim and Bob handed their rifles to Frangois. 

"How do you know I will not take advantage of 
you?” asked Frangois as he waved back acceptance 
of the weapons. 

"We have no mutual grievance,” answered 
Keen. 

"But why did you run the risk? CouldnT I 
have shot straight at your heart instead of catch- 
ing both your arms in line and breaking them. 
I^m surprised at you. Really, youVe bungled 
worse than a schoolboy. And with a jaw like 
youVe got, I wouldn’t have thought it of you. By 
the way, if that feature of yours had caught my 
eye at first, you might not have got off so easily.” 

Keen did not answer. 

They walked on in silence for a few minutes, 


THE REVELATION 


413 


then as Dan strayed from them a bit, Keen mo- 
tioned to Frangois: 

'T’m afraid he'll get away. You see it's be- 
cause my daughter's praying that I've made a 
botch of it. I always do when she pulls." 

The Captain stared at the ugly face. He made 
the mental comment: “There's something to him 
and in it." 

At the request of Keen his sons walked with 
Dan a little in advance. The old man leaned on 
Frangois, but only occasionally, and when the 
ascent was steep. 

Gray dawn was already turning to blushing red 
in the east, and up on that high point where the 
party was traveling, the light, unhampered by 
shadows made it quite easy to see the five men 
long before they came within speaking distance. 
On the porch of the house, sheltered by trees, low 
and spreading, an old woman was standing. A 
younger one stood a few paces from her, her eyes 
shaded by one hand. 

Keen and Frangois were now heading the 
others, and the blue eyes that pierced through the 
intervening shrubbery rested on Frangois. A sha- 
dow of disappointment overcast her features. 

“Well?" asked Mrs. Keen. 

Her daughter did not answer, her heart stood 


414 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


still as her eyes wandered to the other stranger. 
But something confused her. 

It was only for a second. Before Mrs. Keen 
could realize what was happening, Katie rushed 
to the party and ran up to her father. 

“How can I thank you!’^ she cried, but it was 
to the second stranger that she rushed with out- 
stretched arms. 

“My husband ! my husband ! I knew you would 
come if you were still alive. Thank God with me, 
everybody.^' 

Dan blushed to the roots of his hair and looked 
about him as if he would escape. 

The young woman did not seem to mind his si- 
lence and embarrassment but clung to him crying 
hysterically: “My husband! my husband!” 

The mother advanced weeping. 

Frangois was motionless with astonishment. 
Dan looked at him appealingly, but the Captain 
gave a withering scowl in response which made the 
culprit’s face blanch until he resembled a dead 
man. 

“Speak to me, tell Father all about us; he is my 
husband. Dad, and now you see for yourself — ” 

More to stop her wailings than from any feel- 
ing, Dan said tamely: “Katie!” 


THE REVELATION 


415 


That satisfied her and she began running her 
hands over his face and calling him pet names. 

The Captain could stand it no longer, so he 
turned away from the group. 

Mrs. Keen ran up to him and invited him into 
the house. 

Once there, the couple was forgotten or rather 
neglected for a while until Zack Keen^s wounds 
were dressed. Frangois assisted the boys and Mrs. 
Keen to fix splints about his arms and afterwards 
made him comfortable in an armchair. The pain 
was too great for him to pay much attention to 
Dan, and very soon he dropped into unrousable 
sulking. 

The mother told Frangois the story in a few 
simple sentences. 

During the war while her husband and sons 
were in the army, this man, — pointing to Dan — 
giving his name as Daniel Henderson had come to 
their home. After a few days she noticed he made 
love to her daughter Katie, and when she rebuked 
him for taking advantage of the trusting girl, he 
being a stranger to them, nothing would suffice 
but an immediate marriage. It was solemnized 
in the little village church. If proof were required 
she could produce the marriage certificate at once. 
There was nothing very unusual about the whole 


416 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


affair until just as the minister was pronouncing 
an additional blessing on the couple after the cere- 
mony, soldiers came galloping by and the recently 
wedded Daniel' Henderson made his escape 
through the window. From that hour he had 
never been heard of. 

Mrs. Keen continued to say that once her hus- 
band thought he got trace of her daughter’s hus- 
band in Wallace’s gang, but Katie would never 
believe that her husband could be associated with 
Wallace. And although to excuse him for not 
coming back to her she at times declared Daniel 
must be dead, she did not really think so. 

The Keens were of good stock and had plenty of 
money and property, but Mr. Keen was so sensi- 
tive in his regard for his family name in the com- 
munity where they had lived for generations back, 
that he left the place, taking an oath never to re- 
turn until he found the man dead or alive. 

The mother went on to describe Katie’s love for 
this Daniel. It was all-consuming and had be- 
come a mania, a reality, that nothing could induce 
her to forget. 

Frangois heard the strange story through and 
sat for a long time as if stupefied by some power- 
ful drug. 


THE REVELATION 


417 


At last he asked: ‘^How did you ever happen 
to come to this out-of-way place?” 

^‘My husband seems to have gone off his head a 
bit — ^he loves Katie so. This Daniel had told 
Katie he came from the wild country between De 
Soto and Ste. Genevieve; he also said his father 
owned mines that would be great some day. We 
heard about the mines up this way, at Vallee, and 
Pa came here a short time ago to search out every 
man in the whole country. When Katie said 
Daniel was dead he always said: ‘‘No scoundrel 
ever dies young.” 

“It is true, Mrs. Keen, that Dan’s father is at 
the head of a great mine. I can assure you it is 
so for I’m interested in it. 

“By the way, my name is Jean Frangois. I was 
hopeful, however, that some mistake has been 
made. Anyway, I pledge you my word that Dan 
takes your daughter as his wife and does what is 
right and honorable by her. Should he refuse, he 
will have to deal with me.” 

“Do you really mean this?” asked Keen. 

“Yes, and you may take my word as final.” 

Frangois was surprised at the vehemence of his 
assertions. He could not explain to Keen the 
pressure he meant to bring to bear on Dan through 
some discovery in the latter’s past which Keen’s 


418 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


statements and his wife^s corroborated. It would 
never have occurred to Francois to make use of 
anything detrimental to Dan Douglas in order to 
further his own schemes as he might have done 
long ago, but within the last hour Dan^s defences 
had been stormed and taken and he was now at 
the mercy of any right thinking man. 

Keen suddenly roused himself and asked: 

What's his real name? who's he, after all?" 

^‘Well, I know his father and mother — they live 
not more than ten miles from here. They are 
Mr. and Mrs. Donald Douglas. Dan's father is 
quite respectable — and so is his mother," he 
added. 

Frangois got up and went out, followed by Mrs. 
Keen. 

Dan and Katie were still standing where he had 
left them. 

“Mr. Douglas," he called, “I wish to speak with 
you." Then as Dan hesitated he commanded: 
“Come here at once, sir." 

He came instantly, with his head down like a 
thief caught robbing a widow. 

“Just a word with you," said the captain. To 
the young wife he said : “Go in with your mother." 

But Katie would not budge until her mother 
spoke to her. She then followed her reluctantly. 


THE REVELATION 


419 


^^Mr. Dan Douglas, what have you to say for 
yourself?’^ demanded Frangois. 

Dan’s spirit had gone. Since the occurrence by 
the cliff he seemed to have lost all presence of mind 
and was like a piece of pliable clay. 

^^Don’t you see I’m guilty? Well, I’m at your 
mercy, I suppose, as I’m also at the end of my rope 
with these people.” 

His tone, though resistless, infuriated Frangois. 

^Tf it were not for your young wife, Dan, I’d 
kill you as I would a viper. That’s the mercy I 
would show you.” 

Dan was pale and he trembled. Frangois was 
besides himself with anger. 

“You damnable wretch!” he cried. “You curl” 

“Can’t you be more considerate? Don’t be so 
hard on a fellow.” Dan looked dejected. 

“Don’t presume on — our acquaintance, you 
wretched, soulless disgrace of God’s image. Dan 
Douglas — ” 

“Please, Frangois — ” 

“Have you turned beggar now? I’ve known 
you for a deserter of your army; a member of Wal- 
lace’s Gang I suspected you to be after my meeting 
with the officer at Ste. Genevieve’s, I am certain 
of it at this minute after my talk with Mrs. Keen. 
Dan Douglas, you are that same Dan Billings the 


420 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


hotel keeper declared to be dead, the very man the 
authorities were looking for, and a word from me 
would put you in prison for life!” 

Francois had to pace to and fro to keep from 
striking down the man he addressed. 

Dan was paler than before and did not dare say 
one word in self-defence. 

Suddenly as if the idea had just occurred to 
Francois he paused in his walk and looking 
straight at Dan. 

‘‘And you would have married Virginia Bards- 
dell?” he cried. “You?— YOU?” He clinched his 
teeth and advanced a few steps towards Douglas. 

Dan whimpered. Then he backed before his 
antagonist’s threatening attitude. 

Frangois was besides himself with anger. He 
could not strike the coward who now stood leaning 
against the wall of the house and on whose brow 
large drops of sweat stood out like beads. Despair 
shone in the culprit’s eyes. The strong manhood 
in Frangois whispered to him pity for the weak. 

“Dan,” he exclaimed, “I’m willing to give you 
one chance for — ^your father’s sake and still more 
for your mother’s and this innocent girl whom 
you have deceived. There is indeed one way of 
retrieving yourself. Take this trusting and loving 
young woman to wife. Acknowledge her and 


THE REVELATION 


421 


honor her. But I advise you to tell her the truth 
about it all ; she loves you and will forgive. Start 
from this moment to live an honorable life.^' 
^‘And— 

“Yes; 1^11 keep your secret. But falter just 
once and you^ll regret it the rest of your life. Do 
you take the chance?’' 

“I do,” said the subdued Dan with more real 
earnestness than he ever felt and evinced since his 

birth. 

“It seems to me, with all due respect for your 
father, that you and he have a mania for marrying 
good women and leaving them. As it is my privi- 
lege to stop you right now I shall take advantage 
of it. Come!” 

Dan accompanied Frangois back to the house 
into the dining-room where the Keens awaited 
their return. 

Frangois addressed the group : 

“Mr. Daniel Douglas has promised me and pro- 
mises you, Mr. and Mrs. Keen and sons and you, 
Mrs. Douglas, that he means to acknowledge his 
wife and stand by her always. Am I not right, 
Mr. Douglas?” 

“I agree to all Mr. Frangois has said. Certainly 
I shall provide for my wife and acknowledge her 


422 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


before the world/^ Dan^s aplomb had returned 
in full swing. 

''Now, Mr. and Mrs. Keen, I exact from you a 
promise that you will not interfere in any way 
between these two, nor seek to harm your daugh- 
ter’s husband by word or deed. I expect the same 
from Mrs. Douglas’s brothers.” 

The promises were readily given by all, except 
old man Keen who only very reluctantly agreed 
that he would wait and see how his daughter fared 
at the hands of the man who had already caused 
her to shed tears. 

The sight of Katie clinging to her husband fin- 
ally overcame Keen’s opposition. That she was 
proud of Dan was obvious by the way she looked 
up at him despite the cloud of doubt that hung 
over the group. Her tenderness seemed to touch 
a responsive chord in Dan’s heart and to Frangois’s 
satisfaction the husband placed a protecting arm 
about his wife and drew her to him. 

A few minutes later Captain Frangois turned his 
back on the reunited pair and wended his way 
towards Bonne Terre. One thought was upper- 
most in his mind; Virgina was in reality free. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


A NEW MAN. 

Unconsciously Captain FranQois had permit- 
ted himself to be supplanted in Bonne Terre by 
more aggressive men. Although not wanting in 
energy, as has been already stated, his tempera- 
ment suited him admirably for a gentleman of 
leisure. In capability, there was no one superior 
to him among the men directing the mining com- 
pany, and, with a slight degree of experience more 
than he possessed, nobody could have managed 
the development better than Frangois. But ab- 
sence at war and the accident that followed with 
its relapse due from over-exertion in taking exer- 
cise had intervened to make him loosen his grip 
on the situation. Gradually the reins slipped 
altogether into the hands of others on the alert 
for opportunities, and the original owner and Mas- 
ter of Bonne Terre acquiesced in permitting more 
enterprising heads to plan a greater future for the 
mining camp. 

This inactivity, enforced or otherwise, by de- 


424 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


grees sapped from him initiative to forge his way 
ahead. Old Dade watched his young friend and 
wondered when he would stand upon his ground 
and fight for recognition. That an awakening 
would take place sooner or later he never doubted, 
so while he fidgeted over what he termed Jean^s 
'^blarsted procrastination^^ and relieved his mind 
by wearing off his impatience by sundry wise say- 
ings to Bud, he felt all the while that the blood of 
old Paul would boil over some day and bring 
about in his son the desired crisis. 

The realization came with the return of Fran- 
cois from his hunting expedition with Dan Doug- 
las, and as a direct result of the ascendency which 
recent events had gained him over his rival. 

There was no time wasted in recriminations 
against Virginians former lover. Frangois had once 
for all expressed to him his contempt for his con- 
duct and when they next met no sense of self- 
importance infiated him, nor did he seek to belittle 
the younger Douglas in the estimation of the com- 
munity. But after his continuous battling with 
destiny as far back as he could remember, Frangqis 
appreciated the fact that he was given an oar to 
drive his boat out of a sluggish eddy that for years 
had repelled all his efforts, aud he meant to u^e it. 

So having settled Dan Douglas’s future and 


A NEW MAN 


425 


fired his own blood, ambition awoke in the breast 
of the Master of Bonne Terre and drove away all 
thoughts of the hunt. With rifle-strap slung over 
one shoulder, he turned his face homeward and 
every step that brought him nearer quickened the 
working of his brain. He asked himself questions 
and answered them. He discovered his mistakes 
and acknowledged them. His powers of mind, 
unused and fogged to a standstill, broke their 
moorings and began to work out into the free open 
right of way. 

Just past midday Jean Francois walked into 
Dade’s Inn — a new man. 

Minor difiiculties were arising in the develop- 
ment work and the engineers had just come over 
to ask Silas if he knew the whereabouts of Dan 
Douglas since his father declared he had not seen 
him for a day or more. Dan was usually the one 
to whom the men apphed when wheels did not 
revolve as they should. Whatever the younger 
Douglas’s faults, diligence was always placed to 
his credit and he never failed those who expected 
it from him. His absence at the moment was con- 
sidered unaccountable. 

As Silas who was seated on the porch craned his 
neck to peer over the railing at the men who stooa 
on the walk in an expectant attitude, reluctant to 


426 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

return to the mining plant without obtaining some 
satisfactory reply, Frangois advanced from the 
hallway. 

'*Mr. Dan Douglas, sirs, expects to return in a 
few days with his wife, and as some one must look 
after those matters I shall undertake to do so, in- 
asmuch as I feel able to shoulder my duties again. 
You may expect me at the mines at one o^clock.” 

“Why, Captain Frangois, you come as a God- 
send,’^ said Mr. Garland, the engineer in charge. 
“It never occurred to me that you might be in- 
terested, or we would have applied to you direct- 
ly." 

“Why, of course he^s interested,^^ put in Dade, 
“or else why should he have been laid up from the 
effects of the explosion at the mines. But I forgits, 
that^s before you’ns ever thought of comin^ here to 
these diggin^s.^' 

“I beg your pardon. Captain Frangois, I had 
never heard your name mentioned by the Doug- 
lases, so I thought — ” 

“That^s all right, Mr. Douglas never thought it 
necessary to mention me because he has a leasing 
contract on my lands. What^s wrong?” 

“It^s the workmen, the drillers, we can^t get 
anything out of them. They're a lazy set.” 


A NEW MAN 


427 


that all? We^ll soon settle that. I know 
most of them.” 

And Frangois soon set matters straight. There 
was that fetching fire about him that caused men 
to obey and follow whenever he chose to use his 
powers of leadership. There was no bluff or pa- 
rade play in him — “he jist does it though people 
seem not to acknowledge it,” Dade said later on to 
the men who commented on his masterly handling 
of the men at the drills. 

Whereas the engineer lost his temper and swore 
at the drillers, and even Dan Douglas went into 
rages and threw things about aimlessly, Frangois 
went in and did things. He neither swore nor 
raged, but there was that fearless glint in his eye 
which told a workman to obey orders or call for his 
time and pay envelope. 

When the six o^clock whistle blew that evening, 
Frangois, the general foreman since noon, came up 
black and oily, with a monkey-wrench in one hand 
and two small drills in the other. The force, alto- 
gether too inadequate for the work in progress had 
been reorganized. 

In passing Dade^s Store, Frangois met Henry 
Garland, the engineer and superintendent. 

“Everything is straight, Mr. Garland. At seven 
in the morning, men will be at their posts. I’ll be 


428 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


there to direct the work in all shafts. In order to 
expedite hoisting in the main shaft, I shall Require 
a new inch and a quarter rope. Will you please 
have Sandy take it down to-night and deliver it to 
Downing, the watchman 

“What? — is Downing watching again 

“Yes, I sent for him as soon as I got the engines 
going.” 

“The rascal balked on Mr. Dan Douglas and me 
ten days ago.” 

“YouT find him on duty for night shift this 
week.” 

One of the company’s blacksmiths came up just 
then. Frangois turned to him: 

“Joe, how many drills have you sharpened, ready 
for use?” 

“Fifteen, I believe.” 

“That’s good. We shall require them at the 
mouth of the shaft, at seven. Lest you may not 
be able to get a tool cart in the morning, wouldn’t 
you like to send them down to the watchman to- 
night?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“I say, Joe! Those drills you sent down this 
morning were too soft. Temper the next lot a bit 
more — we’re cutting into harder rock now.” 


A NEW MAN 


42g 


^‘Yes, Sir; they’ll be more up to mark after this.” 

The men went their way. 

Further on Francois met Virginia. She looked 
him over from head to foot and said: 

‘‘Your old self again? That’s right. Oh! don’t 
mind that smut on your face and your rolled-up 
sleeves, I think them becoming to a man of your 
strength.” 

Francois did not seek to detain her but watched 
her as she followed the road to Dade’s Store, — 
slackening his steps to give her a chance to get 
ahead of him. 

Her comment, not to say compliment, was quite 
suflficient. Frangois became conscious for the first 
time that a woman approves of an industrious 
strong mail. Why had she never told him before 
that she liked him better with spots on his face? 
She had seen him in working clothes many times 
before without evincing any interest in his pur- 
suit. Frangois did not know that she read in his 
face the spirit of a new man. 

At the table, over at the Inn, Bud said things 
would move again now the Captain was willing to 
direct. Bud had been for quitting a few days pre- 
vious to this, but if the organization held under 
Frangois — and it Would — he could manage his part 
better, and did not want to stop. 


430 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Frangois went out to the woodpile and sitting 
upon the kindling block prepared to smoke a pipe. 
Bud followed him there shortly, dressed for a walk. 

''Ho, Cap, not going?'' 

"No ; I've walked enough today. The work this 
afternoon was tiring." 

"I should say it was. You're perhaps under- 
taking too much for a man who's been — resting 
and—" 

"And idling. That's the word and that's just 
what I've been doing, — idling." 

"Well, never mind that. Captain. You've been 
hard hit. Now don't go on and overwork." 

"I shall not. I'm quite myself once more. Bud. 
I should have resumed work weeks ago." 

"All right, then. I'm glad to hear you speak so." 

Bud went on a few steps, drew out his watch for 
the time, and unexpectedly came back. 

"I'm far too early." 

He looked at Frangois who was contentedly puf- 
fing away. 

"Cap, I've wanted to mention something to you 
for a long time. If you will pardon my boldness. 
I'll do it now and be done." 

"Well?" 

"It's of Virginia I would speak." / 

"Yes?" 


A NEW MAN 


431 


Bud thought he was given permission to go on, 
so he sat on a rick of wood in front of Frangois and 
began at once: 

^^Of course, it^s no business of mine, but because 
I regard you as a friend I dare broach the subject.” 
At this point Bud suddenly stopped. He would 
have given anything now to refrain from speaking, 
but it was too late, an inner force urged him on. 

^^It^s no affair of mine, as IVe just said, but — ” 
then he plunged into his subject and went on 
recklessly: 

“You must have noticed that Virginia looks up- 
on you with warmer feelings than she did formerly. 
And now that her engagement with Dan is off — 
you know it^s off, don’t you? — I think it but the 
right thing to do for you to come forward instead 
of holding back as you’re doing. Both Flora and I 
have been wondering at your conduct of late. Why, 
man, you’ve not been out with us since that night 
when we came near being caught in the storm and 
you strayed away from us. I’m sure. Cap, you 
have not set your heart on anyone else for you 
would have to look far and not find her equal or at 
least her superior. Of a surety, there’s Flora, but 
you — ” 

Frangois knocked the ashes out of his pipe and 
replaced it in his pocket, looking right at Bud all 


432 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


the while. That rather disconcerted him in his 
attempt in the role of adviser. 

“Allow me to interrupt you, Bud. What^s ever 
put it in your head that Virginia cares for me? IVe 
never been able to persuade myself that she does 
— that is in the way you mean.” 

“Why, Cap, it^s as plain as can be. Flora and 
I both—” 

“Is that the way it stands with you? Am I the 
first to hear the good news about you and — ” 

“Nonsense, Cap. What are you thinking about?” 
and Bud reddened to the back of his ears. “There 
is no such idea in my head. Miss Flora is very 
kind to me and that is all, positively all. You 
know I^m in no position to marry for a long while 
yet.” 

“Well, Bud, although I do think it an awkward 
subject to discuss — for the present — I must admit 
to you that all thoughts of marriage are impossible 
to me. Besides I assure you that you are alto- 
gether wrong when you infer that Virginia would 
consent to be my wife.” 

“No, Cap, you can’t persuade me to the con- 
trary. I’m sure that if you’d press your suit — ” 

“Look here, Bud, who and what am I that I 
should presume to ask any woman to give her life 
to me? 


A NEW MAN 


433 


‘‘It has always occurred to me that it is absurd 
for people to assume that because a young man 
associates with a particular lady he must neces- 
sarily propose to her, that is a matter for the two 
to decide and no one else should make sugges- 
tions/^ 

“I beg your pardon. I had no idea of being in- 
discreet.” 

“I forgive you for I understand your motive but, 
Bud, can^t you understand? I^m not in a position 
to marry anyone. Very shortly I shall join your 
little party, as of old, but put all those notions of 
proposing out of your head. Is there no friend- 
ship possible between unmarried men and women? 
Are all not free?” 

Bud slowly arose without answering and with 
a significant gesture he seemed to dismiss the sub- 
ject. 

“Good-bye, Frangois. I wish you’d let me go 
down to the mines with you in the morning. I’d 
like to go through the main shaft. I’ve been 
puzzled over something there and would like to get 
your opinion about it.” 

“All right. We’ll go together.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


DOUBTS. 

When men delve into the earth to seek treas- 
ures, in most cases there are scientific indications 
which guide investigators to these beds of wealth, 
but often hope is the sole driving force that sus- 
tains operations until success crowns effort. How- 
ever, in both cases doubts arise to dishearten and 
frequently cheat enterprisers of the goal. 

Bonne Terre had already passed through a num- 
ber of the vicissitudes common to mines and min- 
ers in the early stages of development. The fact 
that the pockets were exhausted made it more 
difficult to keep up a maximum of faith in the face 
of discouragements. Hence, when anything went 
wrong, such as changing from one rock stratum to 
another, or a sign failed, there was a wavering and 
variation in persistency of effort. 

It so happened that shortly after Frangois be- 
came master of the situation and reorganized the 
handling so as to get every part of the work to 
move simply and easily, development drillings did 


434 


DOUBTS 


435 


not produce expected results. Several holes were 
put down and abandoned. Two huge shafts sunk 
below the hundred-foot level were also left as mon- 
uments to large sums lost. These operations ran 
up the expenses of the syndicate to thousands of 
dollars. As yet there was no result to justify the 
optimists. Capitalists who had invested funds be- 
gan to ask questions. 

On top of these ominous forebodings, Dan 
Douglas returned and went about among the men 
with a glowering frown which created distrust and 
unrest. 

Among the first who weakened was Adolf Birsch. 
Then followed the disheartening of Donald Doug- 
las and two of his St. Louis associates. Birsch 
frankly told the engineer he thought all had made 
a mistake. The experienced miners worked on 
nevertheless, not so confidently perhaps, but stead- 
ily, and urged the Syndicate to stand by its agree- 
ment to spend the full amount agreed upon, win 
or lose. 

Those who had hoped much for the future of 
the village on the three hills shook their heads in 
doubt. It seemed as though the place were doomed 
to irreparable oblivion — a spot to be looked back 
upon where lingered an ephemeral dream of great- 


436 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


ness. Even old Silas Dade and the few first settlers 
that remained ceased to be enthusiastic. 

Of course this chasm between the known and 
the unknown had only just been reached. The 
men who were responsible for the success or failure 
did not foresee the immediate climax in the under- 
taking. 

There were other doubts that took precedence. 
They began about this time to be formulated in 
questions : why were conditions not so favorable as 
the Douglases had described them to be when the 
development was discussed in New York? Was 
Dan Douglas as dependable as he was thought to 
be at the time and as he represented himself to be? 
Was he playing an honest game? In any case why 
did he absent himself from the mines when he was 
most needed, and on the other hand who was this 
capable man, Jean Frangois, who was now con- 
ducting operations? Why did he talk as if finan- 
cially interested in the mines — his name did not 
appear when the mines were first mentioned? 

Two of the Eastern members of the Syndicate 
returned to New York and reported on the outlook 
and conditions at Bonne Terre. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


THE CRISIS. 

No improvement was shown in the development 
work. The Syndicate was also two weeks in ar- 
rears in paying the fifty men employed. On a 
Friday, a letter from New York was received, 
stating that the Syndicate in body would shortly 
visit Bonne Terre to inspect the mining prospect 
with a view to deciding upon a policy to be pur- 
sued. The message urged that work be pushed 
forward as rapidly as possible, so that the proper- 
ty might appear to advantage. 

These dilatory tactics did not suit the men, and 
as no mention of wages due was made, a general 
strike was declared. 

Francois tried to persuade the workmen to con- 
tinue the drillings, but they refused, assuring him 
they meant no personal affront to him by disobey- 
ing. 

Dan Douglas spent most of his time at home, 
with his wife who apparently had quite won him 
over judging from his devotion to her. When ap- 


417 


438 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


pealed to, he did not lift a finger to stop the catas- 
trophe that threatened the welfare of the com- 
pany. Donald Douglas and Adolf Birsch with re- 
newed interest in the enterprise stood by Frangois, 
but they refused to guarantee the men^s wages, 
and Frangois was not financially able to do so. 

Everything came to a standstill. 

There was some delay in the arrival of the Syn- 
dicate and that caused the faint-hearted to say the 
field was deserted. Many miners left, and the re- 
maining ones seldom visited the property. In the 
parlance of the community. Bonne Terre was dead. 

During these dreary days, Frangois frequented 
the scene of operation. As far as possible, he kept 
a watchful eye on everything in order to preserve 
the machinery against possible and needless harm. 
In performing these duties, it was often necessary 
for him to go to Donald Douglases home, a pretty 
establishment recently set up by the head of the 
mining company for Theresa, once more his be- 
loved wife. This had also become the temporary 
home of Dan and his Katie. The news of Dan's 
marriage came as a surprise to Bonne Terre and 
needless to say that the groom bore the notoriety 
with his usual independence. 

Frangois occasionally met Dan at his father's 
home and their relations were severely polite. Dan 


THE CRISIS 


439 


resented having to look upon Francois as his mas- 
ter, in a way. Whenever possible, they avoided 
meeting as if from mutual consent, but Frangois 
kept the secret and took no advantage of the 
damaging knowledge in his possession. Of course, 
Dan^s wife felt particularly grateful to the Captain 
and considered him a man of impeccable charac- 
ter. In other words she owed her happiness to 
Frangois, — and we shall presently see how her 
friendship became of consequence to the Master 
of Bonne Terre. 

While the first few days of the strike were 
fraught with serious dangers and Frangois was 
striving to maintain forbearance among the men, 
old Basil happened to come down to the village. 
On perceiving the state of affairs he spent the day 
with his young friend advising him about many 
puzzling problems. In parting, he asked Frangois 
if his mining lease was in order. 

^TVe lost it,’' replied Frangois. ^Tn my excite- 
ment to get off to war, it was overlooked, and, of 
course, when my cabin was burned it was lost with 
all my belongings.” 

^^You would do well to procure a copy. This 
complication with the syndicate may mix up inter- 
ests — may involve your land in some way. It is 
posedHe also that the lease becomes forfeited,” 


440 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


^‘Oh, my dear friend! Mr. Douglas is the soul 
of honor.” 

^^You mean of course the older man?” 

‘^Yes; the lease was executed to him.” 

'^Well, I’m glad it’s not the son you’re alluding 
to. I never liked the cut of the dandy’s eye.” 

^T’m sure everything is quite all right, Basil.” 

^^Have they paid your royalties — when there 
were royalties?” 

^Tes.’' 

^^And your taxes? — have you been paying them 
regularly?” 

^^Mr. Douglas has been paying them for me.” 

Basil showed his surprise by shaking his head. 

^^You should never entrust such business as that 
to others.” 

'^Mr. Douglas will give me a copy of- the lease at 
any time. I have only to mention my wish to 
him.” 

'Well, as your friend I advise you to look after 
your titles, so just see that you get hold of a copy 
of your lease before the arrival of the members of 
the Syndicate. You may find that those Eastern- 
ers will try to make a new deal.” 

"Oh, very well then if you think that might be 
the case.” 


THE CRISIS 


441 


^‘Get your deeds ready, Francois. Listen to an 
old experienced man.” 

^‘Basil, I have no deeds. You know my father 
left me no papers. I suppose his deeds are re- 
corded at Farmington, Silas told me Father wanted 
the cabin and all its contents burned at his fun- 
eral, so I never thought of any deeds.” 

^^Go to Farmington and procure copies of them. 
Was there ever a probate of your father's estate? 
No, of course that's something you never thought 
about having done, but the law protects you. Your 
possession took place automatically, and you could 
cure all defects by filing affidavits of people who 
know you to be Paul's only child. These old- 
timers are getting scarce now and that's another 
reason for you to see to it at the earliest oppor- 
tunity.” 

“It is very kind of you to remind me, Uncle 
Basil. Once upon a time I was touchy on such 
matters but I have learned by this time to value 
good advice so unselfishly given.” 

But Basil kept on : 

“And what about all these houses built upon 
your land?” 

“Oh! they are on lease — so Mr. Douglas told 


me. 


442 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


^^And you receive your share of the benefits ac- 
cruing therefrom?” 

^'No; IVe always been under the impression 
that the lease gives all that to Mr. Douglas.” 

^Terhaps so, but get the copy of the lease and 
study it over.” 

These inquiries on the part of Basil set Frangois 
thinking, and as soon as the excitement lulled, he 
went to Mr. Douglas and asked for a copy of the 
mining lease. 

Dan was present, although when the Captain 
came in he would have slipped away if he could 
have done so without appearing unseemingly rude 
and awakening his father's curiosity. But when 
Frangois unsuspectingly and unguardedly said he 
had lost the lease and wanted a copy, Dan was all 
attention and thankful he was with his father at 
the time. 

^Ta,” said he, “your papers are all with your 
lawyer in New York, are they not?” 

“Y — ^yes, that's so. I had almost forgotten. You 
see, Captain, I rely on Dan's judgement on those 
matters.” 

“But the lease was made out to you and not to 
Dan,” replied Frangois severely. 

“Then, Pa, you'll have to write and ask the law- 
yer to send you a copy.” 


THE CRISIS 


443 


That concluded the conversation, but Francois 
made up his mind then and there to go to Farm- 
ington and satisfy himself as to the status of his 
titles. 

A day later, he mentioned the matter to Dade 
and Bud, and asked them to accompany him to 
Farmington in order to make affidavits that he was 
the only child of Paul and Helen Frangois. 

^^But do you own the land?^^ asked Bud tenta- 
tively. 

“Most certainly. IVe never sold it. My father^s 
dying request was for me to hold on to the land. 
IVe only leased it to Mr. Donald Douglas for min- 
ing purposes.” 

“Well, I just asked to make sure how you stood, 
and if such is the case youM better lose no time in 
seeing about it. I was talking with William Car- 
ter not long ago and he told me you did not own 
the land.” 

“William Carter don’t know what he’s saying, 
for that haint true,” put in Silas decidedly. “I was 
present when ’Squire Moore swore them to the 
lease. I heerd it read, an’ kin swear black an’ blue 
’t was a lease.” 

“Yes, it was a lease, Bud — I had it and it was 
burned with my cabin during the war.” 

“Well, if it suits you and Dad, we’U go to 


444 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Farmington to-morrow. It’s unfortunate that 
’Squire Moore is dead.” 

Frangois was puzzled and remained thoughtful 
for a while. He decided to set out with his friends 
early the next morning. 

The drive through the country was pleasant and 
invigorating. Summer seemed to have stolen away 
in the night, and fall with its frosty breath had 
already nipped the leaves and tinted them red, 
golden, and brown. Hickory nuts were strewn on 
the road. Wild grapes hung in clusters from huge 
vines that matted the boughs of trees. And along 
the way, mast-fattened swine started up from 
their rootings to utter a guttural ^'booh!” then 
scampered away through the woods while ’possums 
shambled down from fruit-laden persimmon trees. 
On every hand were evidences of preparations for 
winter — farmers were digging potatoes and cut- 
ting corn and groups of merry children with sacks 
and split-cane baskets were gathering hazelnuts. 

Frangois and the two Dades, on horseback, rode 
on among these scenes and remarked on the beau- 
ty wrought by the change of seasons. Now and 
then they drew rein at some gate to ask the way 
because they had gone through a short-cut that 
was new to them and wanted to get back to the old 
St. Louis wagon-road. 


THE CRISIS 


445 


By eleven o’clock, however, they reached the 
quaint little county-seat town, and hitched their 
horses to the racks back of Dalton’s Store. Scores 
of wagons, loaded with wheat and corn, were roll- 
ing in from various parts of the county, for it was 
a Saturday, and long queues of these equipages 
were lined up in front of Giesing’s Mill, awaiting 
their turn to discharge the grain and get flour in 
exchange. Perched upon the springseats of the 
wagons with the farmers were their wives wearing 
cotton dresses and sunbonnets, while sitting on the 
sacks behind, gay with a holiday spirit, frolicked a 
half dozen children. Young men of the country, 
called ''young bucks,” galloped into town with a 
dash, their hats tilted to one side, and their horses’ 
saddles and bridles resplendent with rosettes and 
dangling thongs. All shouted Indian war-whoops 
as they entered the court-house square. 

Such was Farmington in those times on market 
days. 

On the way up Main Street to the Square, Silas 
stopped and talked with several of the young 
lawyers, among them, Marion Carter, Jasper 
Burke, M. R. Smith, and H. B. Ledbetter. For 
each one he had a "howdy” and took special de- 
light in introducing his son and Captain Francois. 

It took only a few minutes’ consultation in Wil- 


446 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


liam Carter’s office to convince Francois that ac- 
cording to the county records he held no title to 
the lands in question. On a certain day, by war- 
ranty deed, he had conveyed to Donald Douglas 
the land in fee simple. 

Francois’s amazement knew no bounds! He 
looked from Silas to Bud and then again at the 
lawyer. Bud was prepared beforehand but Silas 
was shocked. 

When questioned about the lease Mr. Carter in- 
formed Francois that there was no record of such 
nor of mortgage nor again of deed of trust. 

Dade told the story of the execution of the lease 
and the payment of one thousand dollars. 

^'Yes, that is the consideration named in the 
warranty deed.” 

'^But since I can swear and he can, too,” point- 
ing to Bud, **can’t we’uns be taken for witnesses 
and prove that the land is Francois’s?” 

‘The rule is you cannot change written testi- 
mony by oral, so if you and Bud and Francois 
testified, Douglas and his son could claim the 
right and deny all you said.” 

“But,” persisted Dade, “we’uns could prove 
that the Captain’s been getting royalties for 
years.” 

“That would help. However, all you can do 


THE CRISIS 


447 


is to file suit for quiet title, which I shaU do if 
you wish. Is that agreeable to you, Captain 
Frangois?^^ 

The upshot of the conference was that Mr. 
Carter was retained to recover the land. Proper 
affidavits were prepared and signed, then the 
three men departed for home. 

Their return was less cheerful than their com- 
ing. Frangois had very little to say. Dade made 
a few trite remarks on the St. Louis men, and 
Bud went on ahead. 

Although it was later than they expected it 
would be when they reached Bonne Terre, they 
went together to the Douglases. 

Donald and his son came out to the gate. 

Frangois said: 

“Gentlemen, the three of us are just returned 
from Farmington. I went down there to look up 
my lands and I found that instead of signing a 
lease before the war, you had me sign a deed. 
Now the document you read at the time was 
assuredly a lease. What am I to understand 
about this business?’’ 

“You signed a deed and a contract for commis- 
sion on the output,” said Dan nonchalantly — 
“Why, Captain, don’t you remember signing two 
papers?” 


448 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


“You know very well I signed a lease, Dan 
Douglas, and when you call it a deed you lie!” 

Quicker than words Frangois was off his horse 
and was on the point of striking Dan a terrible, 
felling blow, when Dade and Bud interfered to 
prevent any violence. 

Frangois was pale with anger but the inter- 
ruption gave him time to reflect. He contented 
himself with charging the Douglases with fraudu- 
lent conduct towards him and notified them that 
suit had been filed against them that very day. 

The whole time Donald Douglas stood like one 
in a trance and looked fearfully ashamed. He 
did not try to defend himself; Dan held his 
ground but did not dare look Frangois in the 
face when he saw the effect of his explanation. 

On Monday following, the Syndicate arrived 
en masse. On Tuesday the Douglases were 
served with summons and copies of the petition 
in Frangois’s suit to quiet title, and each member 
of the Syndicate was served by the sheriff with a 
copy of the lis pendens which had been filed. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


SUSPENSE. 

The Syndicate refused to do anything with 
the mines until the question of title should be 
settled. Its several members were loath to aban- 
don the project and lingered aimlessly in the vil- 
lage. The men of the vicinity who knew some- 
thing of the deadlock feared a loss to everybody, 
and urged Donald Douglas to compromise with 
Frangois so that capital could push forward the 
work. But Dan said to his father and per- 
suaded him that the issue must be decided in the 
court of last resort. 

Frangois remained firm. He was dazed by the 
discovery that his father's home, his by lawful 
inheritance, the lands his father loved so that 
his dying request was for Jean to hold on to them 
at any cost, had been taken from him by fraud 
and contracted to be sold to the Syndicate should 
the mines prove valuable. He could scarcely 
understand how he stood in relation to them. 

More than once he was tempted to waste no 


449 


450 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


time in law-suits against such men as the Doug- 
lases, especially now that he knew the father to 
be party to the deception that was practiced on 
him. Again, why should he keep Dan’s secret? 
Why not put an end to the whole matter by ex- 
posing his conduct? But no; he had given his 
word and the breaking of it would not help his 
cause, neither would he have innocent women 
who had already suffered so much bear the brunt 
of the disgrace of father and son. He would 
stand on the merits of his case and expect justice 
accordingly. 

But in the midst of these meditations, Fran- 
cois’s faith was momentarily shaken: what if an 
evil influence did attach itself to those surround- 
ings where he was so severely tried in childhood 
and in manhood? would it not be wise to flee to 
parts unknown and start life where handicaps 
were not so persistent? 

In this state of mind he thought of Virginia. 
Perhaps she might marry him if he were to take 
her to a new place, a place where his father’s 
straaige funeral and Paul’s and Sam’s ghosts had 
never been heard of? Here every turn he took 
resulted in defeat and chagrin. 

This continual brooding produced on Frangois 


SUSPENSE 


451 


a sort of morbidness, and he finally resolved to 
go to Virginia and lay the plan before her. 

Frangois had been but a few times to Vir- 
ginia's home since the apparition at his father's 
grave and he never in any way referred to it. 
Virginia from a feeling of delicacy refrained 
from mentioning it after her first surprised out- 
burst at the moment. In consequence a feeling 
of reticence sprang up between the two so that 
it was not without a feeling of trepidation that 
Frangois made up his kind to broach the subject 
anew. 

The meeting, however, was cordial with just a 
slight touch of reserve, and after some common- 
place talk Frangois surprised the young woman 
by inviting her to walk with him along the 
Heights. Virginia suggested they stop on the 
way and ask Flora to join them. That brought 
Frangois at once to the realization that he was 
about to lose his opportunity for a tete-a-tete and 
he quickly interfered, stating to Virginia that he 
must have a confidential talk with her and ap- 
pealing to the friendship she had always so gener- 
ously extended to him. 

Virginia was more puzzled than ever but sub- 
mitted gracefull}^ to what she thought a whim 
on his part; until then he had always spoken 


452 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


freely before Flora. As Virginia ran to her room 
for her bonnet her heart whispered to her that 
she would perhaps get a glimpse of what lay be- 
neath the generally calm exterior of this man to 
whom she had given her love, and she paused 
a while and pressed her hands to her face to hide 
the blushes that she felt suffused her countenance 
as her heart beat faster and faster. When she 
returned she appeared to be more agitated than 
before. 

The fact is that this was not the same Jean 
Frangois she had known previously, — a man 
armed with even poise of mind and heart, — but a 
being driven to desperation who held out to her 
his hands as one who would be saved. In that 
short space of time her love grew a hundredfold 
and she was ready to receive him, and protect 
him. No man is so strong and wise but that he 
can gain and learn more wisdom when he trusts 
to an intelligent woman’s intuition, tempered as 
it is by a spirit of justness rare in men. 

On the way Frangois told Virginia all over 
again what there was to tell from his boyhood 
to the present and she listened as if she heard 
it for the first time. This was, however, the 
only time he mentioned to her his transactions 
with the Douglases. It was not his intention 


SUSPENSE 


453 


to spend any time discussing them, he only meant 
to use the incident as a stepping stone and then 
rush on and tell of his intention to abandon all 
and seek a new life among strangers if she — , 
but his courage failed him for a minute. How 
could he propose to her on top of this failure of 
his? Virginia unconsciously aided his weakness 
by speaking: 

^^But, Captain, why are you so despondent? 
You will win this case. When all things are 
weighed you will find that Dan Douglas does not 
stand as high in this community as Captain 
Frangois.’’ 

^There are written documents to substantiate 
his claims.” 

^^But surely, your lawyer must have told you 
that in some instances oral testimony is per- 
mitted to overthrow the most solemn instru- 
ments.” 

^'On the contrary, he assured me that written 
instruments take precedence over verbal state- 
ments, and that word of mouth cannot be heard 
against such records. He did not mention any 
exceptions.” 

^^But I assure you there are cases, rare cases 
I admit, but still it is so, for my Uncle Brewer 
discussed one before me, in Richmond, and I 


454 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


know he could not be mistaken. I shall tell you 
about it some time, but now this is the only 
point of interest: oral testimony is effective.'' 

''Well, to tell you the truth, I did not question 
Mr. Carter's statement. I was too amazed at the 
whole proceeding." 

"My uncle — I wish he were living now, he 
was so learned — was saying that oral testimony 
or evidence of fraud will annul any paper, no 
matter what may be its pretentions. For in- 
stance, a will may be set aside on oral proof of 
fraud." 

Virginia's clear, analytical mind continued to 
work. 

"Now, Captain, look into your case again. Can't 
you prove by Silas Dade — he is a level-headed old 
man — that whatever paper you signed was ex- 
ecuted while you were put under the influence of 
liquor?" 

"Virginia, to my 'shame, I must admit that I 
was not coerced into drinking." 

"No? but then here is evidence of fraud: if you 
meant to sell your land would you have agreed 
upon one thousand dollars as the price? Isn't 
that more than ridiculous? In any impartial per- 
son's opinion that suggests fraudulent intention. 
Besides, you can prove by ^las and Bud that you 


SUSPENSE 


455 


received royalties on certain dates. You must 
have some of your royalty slips.^^ 

^The lawyer admitted that might help.’’ 

^‘But you have the slips?” 

‘‘Yes, several.” 

“Good. That will go far towards substantiat- 
ing your claim that a lease was executed and not 
a deed. In this instance, you also have written 
instruments to uphold your statements.” Vir- 
ginia was wide-awake to the situation, she con- 
tinued: “You say you have in your possession the 
note that Donald Douglas sent you inviting you 
to the Inn, ‘to sign the contract with us.’ ” 

Frangois looked at Virginia with renewed in- 
terest in the discussion. 

“I see the point you would make,” he said, 
“ ‘Come over to the Inn to-night to sign the con- 
tract with us’ — those are the exact words he used 
— implies that there is an instrument to be signed, 
wherein we both covenant to do certain things; 
whereas a deed is an ex parte conveyance.” 

“Mr. Carter has the reputation of being a most 
capable lawyer. See him at once. Captain, and 
explain the case to him in its minutest details. 
He would not overlook such elementary princi- 
ples as you and I have just brought to the sur- 


456 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


face. DonT you see what a good chance you 
have?” 

‘^Yes, I see that I have a chance after all. And, 
Virginia — ” 

'^Yes?” 

'Tf I win I shall owe it to you, for I was dis- 
couraged a while ago.” 

‘Tes?” 

Frangois looked up at his companion with in- 
creased admiration but his courage failed him a 
second time and his pride returned. How could 
he have thought of proposing to this young woman 
to run away and hide from those who had known 
her from childhood up or else, worse again, how 
could he ask her to share with him the annoyance, 
not to say disgrace, to which the mystery sur- 
rounding his name constrained him? But once 
more the feeling of ascendency over the Doug- 
lases, especially Dan, animated him. Even should 
he lose in the end. Bonne Terre could always 
count on him as an inhabitant. 

Although he felt drawn to Virginia more closely 
than ever before, he decided that he must wait 
and win his rights first. 

Virginia’s last words to him were: 

''Stand firm, Captain. Ignore the S5aidicate if 
members approach you on the subject of compro- 


SUSPENSE 


457 


mise. You hold the future of Bonne Terre in 
your hands and that is a good augur for the suc- 
cess of the suit. You see you are in spite of all the 
Master of Bonne Terre.” 

She watched Frangois as far as she could and as 
each step carried him farther away her feeling of 
longing grew more and more intense, until with a 
shake of the head which sent her curls bobbing 
about as of old she gave a little sigh and said : 

“WhaPs the use? He will never speak. Flora 
doesn^t know what she’s talking about when she 
says — ” and the sentence was never completed. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


VISITORS. 

Immediately after the serving of notice of suit 
on members of the Syndicate visiting the mines, a 
meeting was held by the New York men in order 
to discuss the situation fully. Two of those pre- 
sent were young men who possessed more fore- 
sight and greater ability than their elders. One 
was Henry J. Ryan. He not only towered over 
his compeers in forcible executive initiative but 
more than equalled them in wealth. The other, 
Sam Bolivar, made a strong ally for Ryan, cham- 
pioning whatever policy his friend suggested. 

At the meeting the three older men were in 
favor of annulling the contract and returning to 
the East, when Ryan interrupted and said : 

“Such a course would, in my opinion, lose us the 
greatest mines of their kind in the civilized world. 
In addition, according to the terms of our contract, 
we would forfeit the thousands of dollars put into 
the development. 


VISITORS 


459 


'T, for one, vote that we stay by it. Have I a 
second?” 

‘T'll stick,” said Bolivar. 

Therefore, as the two young men were success- 
ful New Yorkers who controlled more than half of 
the money, they overruled the views of their asso- 
ciates. 

^^What^s your plan?” asked one of the bankers 
addressing Ryan. 

“Stick right here.” 

“But stick to what, if that man Francois wins, 
we have no contract with him?” 

“WeVe not going to give up even if Captain 
Francois wins — and I hope he will. His head is 
screwed on right and we can make a deal with him. 
We^re not here to “do” anybody and neither are 
we here to be “done”; we’re as necessary to Mr. 
Frangois as his land is to him.” 

“How are we to stick?” asked another gray- 
bearded man. 

“Stick by staying in this town, that is until a 
compromise is reached. We can’t wait on courts. 
They do very well and all that, but they’ll tie up 
the business until my friend’s hair,” pointing to 
Bolivar, “turns gray. No; that’s out of the ques- 
tion, we can’t and won’t wait on the legal deci- 
sion. What we must do is buy out both factions.” 


460 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

''How long do you count on waiting?'’ asked the 
first banker who addressed Ryan. 

"Oh! if that's what's troubling you gentlemen, 
send word to your families — Sam and I are clear 
of that. Tell them you're enjoying the hunting 
in the Ozarks and you'll probably stay a few weeks 
after to — " 

"That's it! 'recuperate' after our exertion!" put 
in a jolly, redfaced fat man, shaking as he laughed. 
"Ha! ha! that fellow Silas Dade has some of the 
best brand I've ever tasted." And he patted down 
the few, scanty locks that rested across his bald 
head. 

"That's the way to look at it. We’ve got money 
in — if we're set out, we can make somebody 
'smoke.' " 

And so it was decided. Letters were sent away 
with the proper explanations, and, as they had 
brought guns with them, the people could not look 
upon their staying as a ruse. It was furthermore 
agreed that the management of negotiations — 
whatever course might be expedient — should be 
left entirely in the young men's hands. 

"Now, Sam," said Ryan shortly after the meet- 
ing, "the thing for us to do is to make ourselves 
popular around here. The best people to meet are 
the girls. Seen any about?" 


VISITORS 


461 


Jove, I saw two yesterday, but theyVe not 
'girls’ Henry. That fellow at the store calls them 
the 'gals.’ I call them 'belles.’ ” 

"Lose no time, find out where and how we must 
manage to get an introduction.” 

"Leave that to me. I thought they were sisters 
until I had a good look at them, but they’re not, 
and that old-timer, Silas Dade, says he knows 
them.” 

Just then Dade came shuffling from around the 
comer. 

"There he comes. He likes my brand of 'ter- 
backy’,” continued Bolivar. "Come along. Let’s 
sidle over and offer him a package. I always car- 
ry an extra one for an emergency.” 

"Goo-d Mornin’, fellers!” cried Dade as soon as 
he spied the young men. 

"Good morning, Uncle Dade.” 

"I believe you like my tobacco. I brought you 
a small package,” said the wise Sam. 

"Thank you, Sir. My old woman was a-tellin’ 
me yesterday, she never enjoyed my smokin’ until 
I tried what you give me. She says she act’ally 
likes the smell of it.” 

"All right. When I get back East, I’ll send you 
some more so that you can smoke it altogether.” 

"Thank you. Sir.” 


462 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

“Uncle Dade, IVe been telling my friend about 
those two girls you and I saw yesterday. You 
didn't tell me their names." 

“Oh! Miss Virginy and Miss Flora!" 

“Not sisters, I believe you said," and Sam winked 
at Si. 

“Nope." 

“Who are they?" asked Ryan. 

“The gals? they'ns is fine ladies. There's more 
in this town but those two is what I calls peaches." 

“Right you are!" cried Sam. 

Ryan drew out a cigar which he presented to 
Dade. 

“We would like to be introduced to them," he 
suggested. 

“That's easy. They're not stuck up one bit like 
your city beauties which can't hold a candle up to 
them, no they haint stuck up." 

“Well, when do you think you can manage it. 
Uncle?" asked Sam. 

“They'ns is over to the store now, waitin' for 
me. Ha! ha! To buy somethin'? No, guess again. 
Just come to find out how me old woman is gettin' 
along. So, don't fall over yourselves, but come 
along casual-like and drop in. I'll do the knock- 
ing down to them." 


VISITORS 


463 


'That suits. Go on Uncle, hurry before they 
get away.'' 

The two friends watched Silas disappear in 
through the side door of the store. After a second 
or so, Sam said: 

"Now, Henry, we'll 'drap in casual-like." 

Flora and Virginia heard steps at the entrance 
of the store and before they could exchange glances 
with each other, they were being introduced to the 
young men, members of the Syndicate, Dade add- 
ed rather proudly. 

"Miss Birsch? why we met your father some 
time ago," and Henry Ryan launched into pleas- 
ant conversation with Flora while Bolivar and 
Virginia exchanged remarks about the town, its 
size, number of inhabitants before and after the 
war. 

Dade was entertaining himself as he went back 
to fill Mrs. Birsch 's kerosene can so as to have it 
ready for Malinda when she would call: 

"After all, dadburn the Captain an' Bud. 
They'ns is too slow. The time they'ns a-been 
keepin' company with those gals passes me com- 
prehension. I never could understand Jean. 
First, I thought he was after Flora, then Virginia. 
Dan's out o' the way now an' he's still danglin' on 


464 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


like a crayfish on a bit of string. Bud^s no bet- 
ter.^^ 

When Dade returned the girls and Sam and 
Ryan were to be heard laughing and chatting 
down the street. 

The next morning, Ryan sent a note to Virginia 
and Bohvar likewise sent one to Flora, requesting 
the pleasure of calling. The selection of the lady 
to be called on was a matter of very short delibera- 
tion, for although they had paired off differently 
at the first meeting they soon discovered their 
mistake. 

Permission was given and word soon spread 
over the village that the two young millionaires 
were paying formal calls at the Birsch and Bards- 
dell homes. The minute Malinda showed Bolivar 
into the parlor, she shot off to her sister’s precincts 
and informed Jennie. 

''Mr. Ryan’s here right now, an’ you’d better 
hurry back or Miss Flora ’ll have to show him out 
herself, ’Linda. That won’t never do with gen- 
tlemen like those.” 

Malinda did not lose a minute but spread the 
news on the way to all she met. Bud and Fran- 
gois were not long in finding out about the callers 
and had to stand hearing the rumor that the two 


VISITORS 


465 


belles of Bonne Terre were not averse to the at- 
tentions of the rich Yankees. 

When Bolivar and Ryan met after their visit the 
following dialogue took place: 

*T say, Sam, I wish we had met them sooner. 
Miss Bardsdell is the kind of girl that makes you 
feel every minute you spend away from her is time 
wasted. I wonder what she can find to interest 
her in this out-of-way place 

You Ye not ahead of me, Henry, and I want you 
to understand that I’m going in to win Miss 
Birsch. By Jove, man, she’s a beauty — and so 
much life and go about her. If I succeed in talk- 
ing New York to Flora Birsch you may cancel my 
membership in the Lambs’ Club.” 

“Now for it.” 

“I give you my hand — what’s under your hat?” 

“Sam, Bonne Terre hasn’t a rig of any sort — not 
a decent horse and buggy. I suggest we make a 
hit here — put some go into things.” 

“Count on me.” 

“All right. Get Bud Dade to drive us over to 
Farmington — we won’t require him to drive us 
back.” 

There was no delay. Two days later, Ryan 
and Bolivar rode into Bonne Terre on the finest 
saddle horses money could buy in Farmington. 


466 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


The accoutrements were dazzling and set the pair 
of pretty bays off to great effect. A few hours 
later, there appeared in the streets of the village, 
already agog over the horses, two of Lang & 
Brothers^ new buggies, with double teams^ glitter- 
ing new harness, and in the rear box of each buggy 
was a side saddle with fancy bridle and blanket. 
All was delivered to the New Yorkers and installed 
in the barn at Dade^s Inn. 

The next afternoon, Saturday, two couples were 
out for a horseback ride. Ryan rode his prancing 
bay and Virginia sat gracefully on a sleek sorrel. 
Heads were popped out of doors and windows, and 
people on the street gazed, men and women alike. 
All Bonne Terre was awe-struck. 

Frangois and Bud stood on the porch of Dade^s 
Store with old Silas as they cantered by — Bolivar 
and Flora had joined Ryan and Virginia and rode 
matches to their horses. 

Silas spat a mouthful of tobacco juice far out 
into the dusty street. 

^^Sarves you right, boys. If they were your 
wives they wouldn't be out prancing about with 
those fellers. I know you'd like to make believe 
you don't care, but I kin see yer turnin' green in 
the gills. You shouldn't have left them roses a 
danglin' over the garden fence when you could 


VISITORS 


467 


have had them for the askin\ Sarves you right.” 

“Cap and I are glad the girls are having a good 
time. Didn’t you see us wave to them?” 

“Git out! What else could yer do? Of course 
you waved to them, but it’s your fault. Them 
city chaps haint to blame — decent fellers I call 
them. They’ns haint stuck-up a bit. That Ryan 
took a chaw of my terbacky yisterday just as old 
Marlins would have done, and he started spitting 
away like fury. ^Glad to see you’re an ’sperienced 
hand at it’ I said. Well you’ns kin judge them 
same as me they’ns is stayin’ at the Inn same as 
you. If I’m not catawampus in my sizin’-up 
they’ns is smart chaps, and square. Money? yes, 
but Donald Douglas says they’ns made every 
nickel of it. Nor should I wonder.” 

“They are rather likable gentlemen,” said Fran- 
cois, “and I think they mean to play me fair.” 

“Glad to hear you say it, Frangois, an’ you an’ 
Bud haint far behind those two city chaps as gen- 
tlemen. I know you an’ Bud haint goin’ to spoil 
the girls fun by doin’ any bullyin’ and pickin’ a 
quarrel. That day’s past. -Remember, 'All’s fair 
in love an’ war.’ Bless your souls, lads, I guess you 
haint never asked those gals — huh? Course you 
haint never asked them. What rights have you?-” 

“Oh, Dad, you should not talk so.” 


468 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


'TT just have my say all the same. You^ns 
oughter have popped the question ere this. 
They’ns said quicker ’n I^d say ‘scat.^ Now 
theyVe a right to hold their noses up in the air 
when you ask them.” 

Bud pulled his cap viciously over his ears and 
eyes and pulled Frangois by the arm. 

^Tiddlesticks! fiddlesticks!” cried Dade as the 
two friends walked off with their hands deep in 
their pockets and thoughts somewhat muddled by 
Silases pointed remarks and raillery. 

Silas was relentless, he called out at the top 
of his voice: 

‘^No use o’ lookin’ down your noses like that — 
faint hearts never wins no pretty gal. Yer ’ll have 
to buck up an’ step to a livelier tune!” 

'Tor goodness sake! hush!” Bud shouted back. 

As they went on towards the mines, they heard 
Silas’s "haw-haws!” 

The next day, Sunday, two new top-buggies and 
two happy smiling couples drove to French Village 
and back! 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


A RECONNOITERING. 

In reality there was truth in what Silas said to 
Francois and Bud. They were the only two young 
men in that neighborhood who could have made 
eligible husbands for Flora and Virginia, and they 
had dallied along, fairly showered with the effu- 
sion of the girls' love, and if they had not alto- 
gether ignored it they nevertheless offered nothing 
in return. 

What could the girls do? It was not their pro- 
vince to do the courting, neither could they wait 
forever on the good pleasure of the young men. 
Moreover, for some cause quite inexplicable to 
Virginia and Flora, they were conscious of having 
been neglected of late. In spite of Virginia's cor- 
dial and sympathetic reception of Francois a short 
time previously, he had lapsed into his former ap- 
parent indifference. Virginia was sadly puzzled. 

Secretly Frangois felt a pang at his heart. It 
seemed to him that he had loved Virginia all hig 
life and to see her carried off by another, even 

469 


470 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


though he was worthy and rich, would be a greater 
blow than he could endure. All his other disap- 
pointments dwindled into insignificance, into in- 
finitesimal pin-pricks when compared with this 
last loss which threatened him. And his hands 
were tied faster than ever. If he had felt some 
delicacy and pride at offering himself to Virginia 
when he was the sole aspirant to her hand, how did 
he feel now that a man like Henry Ryan seemed 
disposed to lay all his possessions at her feet? 

The ghost story! how he shuddered at the 
thought. The task he had set himself to accom- 
plish that he might win the girl he loved for his 
wife was no nearer completion — the ''ghost’’ story 
had probably by this time reached the ears of the 
Syndicate. Now there was to the former draw- 
backs the great risk of losing all he thought he 
owned so securely. 

Bud, also, in secret bemoaned his loss. He 
counted it as a loss for how could he get in an oar 
to save himself. Had it been in the antebellum 
days, he would have "fit somebody,” as he would 
have expressed it then; but he had since then, 
through education and association learned the 
error of his ways, or rather that method of getting 
one’s way. These words of his father: "You’ns 
haven’t even asked them,” nettled him sorely. 


A RECONNOITERING 


471 


In as much as Bud shared with Frangois the 
same hopes and fears, it was natural for them to 
seek consolation with each other. They found 
themselves in the same boat, drifting towards the 
falls, so they sought to unite with the oars to 
escape. 

“Misery loves company,’^ so as soon as Frangois 
perceived how it stood with his friend he spoke : 

“Your father was then not far wrong as you see 
now when he said our noses were out of joint.’' 

“So he would have us look at it.” 

“We must admit he’s nearer right than other- 
wise,” continued the Captain. 

“Well, I wouldn’t acknowledge it to him. Things 
are bad enough without having to twit us about 
them.” 

After a moment’s reflection Bud brightened up: 

“Suppose we put it up to the girls at once, be- 
fore those fellows make further headway. I can’t 
stand the suspense.” 

“That would be folly now, Bud. We would be 
certain* to get our wings singed if we rushed thus 
into the fire. And as for me, unless conditions are 
changed there is no hope. Never shall I bring 
disgrace on an innocent woman. I thank God I 
never spoke. But with you. Bud, the case is dif- 
ferent and I cannot advise you.” 


472 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


^^How can you be so cool about it?’^ 

‘T am not cool, but unless the mines are declared 
to belong to me I’m afraid I shall be obliged to 
walk to my own funeral march.” 

^^Quit joking, Frangois. You make me feel 
creepy.” 

^'Well, after all. Bud, what’s the use of our wor- 
rying. If the girls prefer us, if they really care 
they will remain true. Who knows, may be they 
are just enjoying the novelty of the change, and 
Flora will appreciate you all the more when these 
young men go.” 

‘Why don’t you count yourself in? what about 
Virginia?” 

‘‘You must remember. Bud, that we never ‘asked 
them’ as your father says.” Frangois preferred to 
ignore the meaning of Bud’s questions. 

Bud thought for a long while, and Frangois also 
busied himself with his thoughts which were not 
very enlivening judging from the serious look in 
his eyes. As was their custom, the friends were 
sitting on the woodpile, smoking. 

“Cap, do you mean that you will never propose 
to Virginia until you’ve cleared the mystery about 
your father?” 

“Quite so. In which case you see how helpless 
I am, — that is in the present complication.” 


A RECONNOITERING 


473 


'Then, Cap, why don't you explode the theory 
of the ghost. That would be a great point gained." 

Frangois looked up. 

'T never realized until this affair came up how 
it must worry you to have that story go the 
rounds, and it is still going, for this morning, 
Obediah, Birsch's negro told me he saw the ghost 
last night. I did not pay much attention to his 
tale until he assured me the ghost must be dying 
out — those were his words — ^he was walking so 
awful feeble-like. It might be wise to catch up 
with the spirit before it leaves this world for 
good." 

Frangois drew out of his pocket some bits of ore 
and crumbled the dirt off them, blowing off the 
dust as if that were his only preoccupation all the 
while. Bud was disappointed that his words 
should have no greater effect upon his comrade 
when the latter spoke: 

"Bud, I've thought about this thing until I am 
all but distracted. It grinds hard on my patience. 
If you'll help me, and if we can induce your father 
to assist us, we'll run this thing to the earth. Your 
words have set me thinking. So Obediah said the 
ghost was feeble-like. To be frank with you. Bud, 
I make the proposal in view of the fact that Vir- 
ginia and I together saw a man appear on my 


474 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

father’s grave — the last time we four went out to- 
gether and climbed to the summit of Blue Hill — 
and the storm drove us homeward. Until then I 
believed all the talk to be the invention of idle 
women. But I saw the man, and for nights and 
nights afterwards I haunted the spot where I saw 
him disappear. I never saw him again. This is 
how we happened to see it: Virginia and I, if you 
remember were walking some distance back of you. 
We had strayed from the path and stood facing 
the chimney that marks the grave of both my 
parents. Suddenly, a stooped form in the nearby 
underbrush moved softly to the wall about the 
tomb. After striding over, it stood for a moment 
on the mound above the grave. Then followed a 
few seconds of utter darkness, when a lurid flash 
lighted up once more the spot where we had seen 
the figure, it was no longer visible. I know Vir- 
ginia saw it because she gave a cry and said some- 
thing that rings in my ears whenever anyone 
brings up the story. It hurt me to hear her say 
what she did, but the poor girl was frightened 
and—” 

''And that is the reason you kept away from her 
and us afterwards? I understand.” 

"So far all my attempts at clearing up the mys- 
tery have been baffled. The spirit must have some 


A RECONNOITERING 


476 


confederate on the outside or else how did it know 
I was watching? or perhaps it has some means of 
detecting someone's approach. It is no longer a 
thing of the imagination but a tantalizing reality. 
Feeling as I do, realizing that it is preventing me 
from getting the best out of life, you may per- 
chance be able to have some idea of its harrowing 
effect on my nerves.” 

m, Cap, why didn't you speak out sooner. 
You know Dad and I are always ready to stand 
by you.'' 

‘^Do you really mean it? I never liked to speak 
of ht' to your father.” 

^'Here's my hand. Cap, — and here's another 
handshake for Dad. I'll speak with him.” 

“You know we must work in secret on this. If 
it were known that three or four of us are ‘ghost- 
hunting,' it would sound ridiculous and might 
make matters worse than before.” 

“You're quite right.” 

“Whom could we get besides your father?” 

“I would suggest Fathei* Duncan,” said Bud, 
“for if I guess your meaning correctly, it is not so 
much strength you require, for one of us would be 
sufficient to handle the ghost.” 

“Father Duncan would do fine. I want wit- 
nesses of unimpeachable character" 


476 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


“Right.” 

The same night, while still enthusiastic over 
their plan, Frangois and Bud called Silas and Fa- 
ther Duncan into conference in Si’s den. 

Frangois made a concise statement of the case, 
not stopping to mention details of personal con- 
cern. It resulted that a solemn compact was en- 
twed into by the four men to make the secret in- 
vestigations at once, and to persevere until they 
were convinced of one thing or the other. 

Dade at first demurred : 

“Jiminy Christmas! No! I haint having no 
truck in sich like. I’ll do anything else for Fran- 
gois, but not that.” 

The three men finally persuaded the old back- 
woodsman to join in, because when the discovery 
would be made, the people would readily believe 
him in preference to them. Even Father Duncan 
admitted that Si’s influence exceeded his. 

“That sounds mighty fine, an’ I feel powerful 
proud to hear you say that. Father, but if we do 
make a ’scovery, ooh-ooh! the three of you’ns 
couldn’t hold on to Silas Dade! I’d bust a gallus 
or get away!” 

But this was all talk on Dade’s part. He didn’t 
believe in ghosts, for years before when the rumor 


A RECONNOITERING 


477 


was started, he told the people there was no truth 
in it. 

And so the compact was sealed amid jollying on 
Si's part and remonstrances from his companions. 
The mode of procedure was to be commenced at 
once: all four men were to conceal themselves in 
the thicket within one hundred feet of the grave 
and watch until midnight, when two would go 
home, the other two remaining on until dawn. 
The next night, the two who had gone the previ- 
ous night would remain until sunrise. This scheme 
would be carried out for ten consecutive days, un- 
less a discovery were made in less time. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


THE NEW LOVERS. 

Lovers the two New Yorkers became at once, 
and in all sincerity as they admitted frankly to 
each other; 

They were not hasty in coming to decisions re- 
specting the desirability of Virginia and Flora for 
wives. They had come to Bonne Terre whoUy 
heart free, so why should they delay trying to se- 
cure that which they required to make their ex- 
istence worth while when they found it within 
reach? 

Accordingly they began laying plans for the fu- 
ture. The affairs had started in pleasant pastime 
— ^merely sought as a pleasant pastime to occupy 
them while waiting for decisive steps in the min- 
ing situation. But after the second meeting all 
thoughts of makeshift and pastime vanished. The 
young men became serious and gradually less com- 
municative with each other about their progress. 
They called on the young ladies, separately, of 
course, and on meeting again at the Inn, said they 

478 


THE NEW LOVERS 


479 


passed an enjoyable evening, or made some com- 
monplace remark about something that had hap- 
pened during their visit. Malinda, for instance, 
was a constant source of amusement to Sam Bol- 
ivar, and he felt a strange fascination as he 
watched her roll her eyes wondering the while 
what she meant by shaking her head at him so 
knowingly. He asked Flora but the girl looked 
embarrassed and declared she did not know. The 
fact was that Malinda was as much interested in 
Sam’s visits as he was himself and she spent many 
hours imagining her young mistress at the head 
of an establishment in New York wondering what 
it would be like — ^herself the boss of numerous 
servants. 

The white-haired Obediah had orders from Ma- 
linda to hold himself at the beck and call of the 
young millionaire. To her simple mind a "mil- 
lionaire” was about as hazy a person as a fairy or 
genius of some time, but what she did know is that 
they can always "do” things. 

"Shucks, he haint nuthin’ to Marse Bud and 
the Cap’n,” said Obediah at first, but after a cou- 
ple of shining dollars were slipped into his palm 
he changed his tune, though at heart he felt a lit- 
tle sore — that his friends couldn’t do as much. 

Occasionally Ryan and Virginia were seen driv- 


480 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


ing out alone, and Bolivar and Flora would take 
an opposite direction. It was evident that the 
young men had personal problems to work out, 
and privacy was essential to their furthering their 
cause. 

When the proposals were made they were re- 
ceived in such a way that the lovers went about 
for some time with the feeling that their hearts 
were held as hostages. For whom? — they won- 
dered. No one had seemed to dispute the rights 
they had assumed. 

The morning of the succeeding day, Virginia re- 
mained in her room, under the pretext of writing 
letters, when as a matter of fact, her thoughts were 
occupied endeavoring to solve questions of great 
moment to her in the years to come. She was 
wishing one minute she had never set eyes on 
Henry Ryan, though the next she acknowledged 
him to be a most estimable man, quite worthy of 
her confidence and friendship, also of any good 
woman’s love. It was the latter that troubled her. 
No sane, intelligent woman could help appreciat- 
ing Ryan’s sterling qualities. While floundering 
and stumbling in her worries. Flora knocked at the 
door. 

There was no mistaking her rap, besides she had 
heard her rapid, lively ascent of the stairs. 


THE NEW LOVERS 


481 


^‘Flora!^^ 

‘Wirginia!’^ and the friends clasped each other, 
then held each other at arm’s length, looking 
searchingly into eyes that seemed burning with 
unusual excitement. 

“You needn’t tell me, Virgie. I can read it as 
plainly as if it were written in black and white: 
we’re in the same predicament!” 

“I don’t quite understand,” murmured Virginia 
trying hard to keep her secret. 

“Virgie!” cried Flora reproachfully, “how can 
you say that when you know better. Oh! Heav- 
ens! I never was in such a dilemma! What are 
we going to do?” 

“Then you did not give a positive answer. 
Flora?” 

“Of course not, and neither did you. I bet that’s 
what you were worrying about when I came in. 
And such lovely men, Virgie! Did you ever see 
anyone with more expressive eyes than Mr. Bol- 
ivar?” 

“Well, it’s no use holding back. Flora, since you 
guessed so correctly. Mr. Ryan did me the honor 
of asking me to marry him and I said ‘No.’ When 
I say the ‘honor’ I mean it for I never met such a 
fine man but one.” 

“And?” 


482 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


'*And that is Captain Francois. But Flora, Mr. 
Ryan would not take my answer as final and asked 
for permission to speak again. I consented. I 
am sorry for I mean to refuse him again.'' 

“Virgie, I can't advise you. Some months ago 
I would have fought for the Captain, but he's been 
acting so strangely of late that — , that — ." 

^'Yes, my dear, he acts very strangely. I do not 
understand him, only I do understand my heart. 
Flora, and I love Captain Frangois. It's no use 
deceiving myself — " 

‘‘But you once thought you loved Dan Doug- 
las—" 

“Flora, leave him out. When I think of the 
narrow escape I've had, I come near losing my 
mind." 

“Then why did you consent to let Mr. Ryan 
address you again on the subject? Is it fair to 
him?" 

“It is not. Flora, but he persuaded me or rather 
left me no chance of refusing. I am only puzzling 
and worrying over the way I'm to handle the situ- 
ation. Mr. Ryan is a fine man and I like him very 
much, but — , however, let us talk of you. What 
have you decided?" 

“When I said ‘No,' he said he didn't want his 
answer yet, he would call for it in a few days. In 


THE NEW LOVERS 


483 


the meantime what are we to do? If they insist 
in continuing to be so perfectly lovely I don^t 
know what they might induce us to say and 
then — ” she continued : 

‘‘Yes, and then we would be miserable all the 
rest of our lives. We must stop them while there 
is yet time. But, Virgie, how did you know I care 
for Bud?'' 

“You could not help it. Flora. Who, taking the 
slightest interest, could remain indifferent to the 
wonderful change that has come over him? And 
has he not done all his studying with one fixed 
motive: to become worthy of you?" 

“And, Virgie, do you think he has felt hurt be- 
cause I've been going about with Mr. Bolivar?" 
Flora's face became a study in anxiety. “And 
what about Captain Frangois? Oh! I'm afraid 
we have both been very wicked!" 

“No, Flora." 

“I think I guess what you would say : they need 
a lesson. And, Virgie, it is up to us to give it to 
them, only we must not let those two young men 
suffer for it and we must not allow them to speak 
to us again on the subject. But how in the name 
of goodness are we to prevent them? If Mr. Ryan 
is as persistent as Mr, Bolivar, I can sympathize 


484 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


with you, Virgie,’’ and Flora gave a aigh that 
emphasized her words. 

So, they talked for more than two hours, com- 
menting on the virtues and qualities of the rival 
lovers — if lovers Bud and FranQois could be termed 
in the precise sense of the word. 

Any worldly or even strictly practical person 
would not have lost one minute in hesitating but 
would have accepted at once the two New York- 
ers, who, besides sterling qualities of mind and 
heart possessed an abundant share of worldly 
goods; but our friends, Virginia and Flora, alas! 
were neither worldly nor practical, and oh! the 
tricks of love-entanglements ! Quite easy for out- 
siders to prescribe in such cases, but how can a 
poor mortal suffering from that peculiar paralysis 
of the powers of reasoning which is the direct re- 
sult of love, decide as would an immune? Strange 
that the decisions which should be guided by in- 
telligence should be at the mercy of chance and 
emotional inspiration! But so it has always been 
and always shall be. Virginia and Flora were, 
however, not insensible to the advantages of 
wealth and position and their merits received a 
great share in their discussion. But Love won 
out above all considerations, although they talked 
at times like professors delivering a lecture. Had 


THE NEW LOVERS 


485 


they been ever so much wiser the result would 
have been the same. What theories and carefully 
laid schemes are proof against that master pas- 
sion, which goes so far as to mock decorum and 
rules of society, making thrones tremble and mov- 
ing the sacredness of peasant traditions? What 
laws are safe from the freaks of love? What gov- 
ernment has greater power? Again, how speak 
lightly of that which in its highest perfection is 
the scepter of the Almighty with which he governs 
and dominates the universe with its myriads of 
worlds! 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


THE SILENT WATCH. 

Even those who deny the supernatural are often 
at a loss to explain away certain experiences. For 
the same reason the at-one-time incomprehensible 
phenomena of nature gave rise to numberless 
myths and legends. It is, therefore, not so very 
remarkable that the mystic cycle that spans the 
space and interval between the end of this world 
and the beginning of another, should be peopled 
with specters and ghosts which, like fairies and 
hobgoblins, figure in myths, speculations, and 
prophesies sufficient to satisfy the fancies of every 
imaginative mortal. 

Hence, it is not extraordinary that the sparsely 
populated village of Bonne Terre should be im- 
pressed by the report of supernatural phenomena 
at the graves of Paul and Helen FranQois, and 
that as a result the inhabitants should shrink from 
the spot. 

Property nearest the briar-hidden tomb was 
cheapest and every block away the price of build- 


THE SILENT WATCH 


487 


ing lots increased. Adults, children, believers, 
and non-believers, also, — for glimpses of the un- 
known puzzle the wise as weU as the ignorant — 
preferred to pass on the other side. Children could 
not be bribed to gather berries and nuts within a 
quarter of a mile of the place. So the result was 
that the immediate neighborhood of the graves 
was completely isolated and left to the ruthless 
hand of ugliness to raise up patches of brambles 
and screens of scrubby brush over its face. On 
returning home after his absence of ten years, it 
will be remembered that Frangois had built a wall 
around his parents’ resting place, then after the 
war when he came back and found his cabin 
burned and the spot overgrown with shrubs and 
brush, he decided that in view of the rumors go- 
ing about, it was advisable to let the graves and 
vicinity remain as he had found them. 

Therefore, it was without fear of molestation 
and intrusion that Frangois, Silas, Bud, and Father 
Duncan undertook their silent watch to intercept 
the ‘‘ghost”, either in his inward or outward jour- 
ney and locate his place of exit or entrance. Per- 
haps no quartette of men in all the country 
around, had, up to that time, taken upon them- 
selves so unpromising a venture, but that possi- 


488 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


bility did not trouble the picket in assuming their 
duties on the hillside. 

By day, Frangois and Bud had gone and ar- 
ranged vantage concealments for the four. Then 
a meeting was held on the ground and a system 
of signals agreed upon, said signals suitable for 
moonlight or total darkness. A plan of action 
was also fixed, so that should a form appear within 
the walled-in enclosure, on the grave, or else ap- 
proach it from without, the watchers would rush 
forward and seize the object, be it spirit or flesh. 

As it was full-moon time, it was thought very 
favorable for the experience. 

Shortly after dusk the first night, the four men 
crept up singly and took positions in the thicket, 
each within a furlong of the grave. Then the 
hours dragged, for no whispered communication 
was allowed. 

Perfect stillness magnified the slightest noises, 
such as breathing which though audible only to 
its author sounded like the wheezings of leaky 
bellows, and the sighings of the great oaks, at in- 
tervals when the wind whispered to them that 
they must soon give ,up their autumn-browned 
leaves already brittled and seared, caused creepy 
sensations to shoot through the watchers^ spines. 
They listened with awe to the tumbling to earth 


THE SILENT WATCH 


489 


of a ripened acorn anxious to plant itself in the 
turf and become possibly a young tree in the next 
spring. When a great owl swooped down and 
alighted on the boughs nearby, crying his dismal 
^Whoo! To-whoo!’Hhe four crouched a little lower 
instinctively. A bald-faced calf straying about 
the trap, was mistaken by Silas for the ghost and 
before his companions could check him the old fel- 
low pounced upon the innocent intruder and it 
bellowed so that they feared the village might be 
aroused. Silas, disgusted that he should be the 
first and only one to forget the strict disciplinary 
orders, vented his feelings by crying: 

^Why don't ye git out of here, yer dumgasted 
fool!" and he pursued him up the hill. 

Father Duncan laughed for ten minutes before 
he could check himself, and as his laughter was as 
a rule contagious, the organization ran great risks 
of becoming demoralized. Silas was for returning 
home, but the others would not consent. The 
watch must be kept. A half hour after the four 
had readjusted themselves to solitude and quiet, 
the reverend father happened to look Silas's way 
and a snicker again provoked pandemonium. As 
it was nearly time for Dade and the priest to leave 
they went home leaving the two younger men. 


490 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Daylight returned without Bud or Frangois ob- 
serving anything uncanny or startling. 

The following night the watch was resumed with 
a much more settled, calculated purpose. Whereas 
the previous time they, in spite of themselves, had 
their nerves keyed up to the point of snapping, 
and the faintest suggestions of a rustle produced 
tremors unknown to them before, the second at- 
tempt was begun with a cool deliberateness suffi- 
cient to defy a dozen phantoms. They undertook 
to disprove that which they knew to be false. If 
they watched for a fortnight without detecting 
any manifestation of man or ghost, they could 
certify that the charge was unfounded. If on the 
other hand a discovery were made they were men 
who would be able to explain it to everyone's satis- 
faction. 

Again the hours wore away heavily until almost 
twelve o'clock. No levity interposed to break the 
monotony. The four men patiently waited at 
their posts, ready to spring upon and intercept 
any intruder who might appear to mar the peace 
of the resting-place of the dead. 

Little did they suspect that not only then- 
strength but their pluck would be put to test that 
night. Just before twelve, when the silvery flood 
from midheaven fell full onto the grave and the 


THE SILENT WATCH 


491 


stolid chimney, there broke upon the ears of the 
listeners a grating, grinding sound not unlike the 
edging together of two miUstones. At once a 
tremor shot through the men^s bodies! 

The grinding, creaking noise continued for a 
half minute, and then there was a jarring, snap 
as of the breaking of a rusty hinge! Involuntarily 
the four men sprang to their feet and listened. It 
was as light as day and though they could see 
perfectly they strained their eyes towards the area 
enclosed by the stone waU. Absolute silence reigned 
for a few seconds. They leaned forward prepared 
to run and grab whatever might appear over the 
wall. Instead of seeing a form, they heard a faint 
moan, then other and more distinct groans! 

Frangois moved forward. With beating hearts 
the others joined him and all four rushed to the 
enclosed spot and looked over the wall. As they 
did so, a voice cried : 

‘^He-lp! help!^^ 

Excitement paralyzed the men in spite of their 
eagerness to discover the cause and the author of 
the cries. When they did see, they thought their 
eyes deceived them: the hearthstone, the huge 
single block before what they had always believed 
was a fireplace, was tilted down next to the chim- 
ney, and the form of a man was struggling to 


492 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


crawl from under the raised outer side! With 
dilated eyes they gazed at each other then again 
and again at the semblance of a man writhing as 
if in agony. They were too stupefied to move. 

Once more the dark mass cried for help. 

^'Quick — before I die!” 

All fear left them. The watchers saw they had 
to deal with flesh and blood. Four pairs of hands 
laid hold of the great block and shifted its weight 
off the crushed man. It taxed their combined 
strength to raise the stone and balance it on its 
broken pivot and they had almost succeeded but 
as they pushed it upright it slipped and fell into 
a yawning hole, nearly dragging old Silas and 
Father Duncan with it. 

^^Carry me to the bed below,” the suffering man 
said with great effort. 

‘'Bud, light your lantern quickly and come.” 
The watchers had regained their usual alertness 
and presence of mind. 

Two lanterns were brought and the frail body of 
an old dwarfed man was gently borne down a 
flight of wide stone steps, and then on down a 
steep inclined passage for more than two hundred 
feet to another stairway. They descended twenty 
odd steps more, according to the stranger^s in- 
structions, interrupted by moans as he writhed 


THE SILENT WATCH 


493 


with pain, and reached a lower level that sloped 
with a steep incline. Along this passage the 
procession moved cautiously for a considerable 
distance till the old man finally commanded them 
to turn sharply to the left. They did as told 
and entered a sort of hallway branching off the 
main passage. A short distance further on, they 
saw the glimmer of a light and soon they walked 
into a subterranean chamber fitted up as a bed- 
room. It contained a table supporting a lighted 
lamp, two chairs made of rough wood, some boxes, 
a crude mantel with a clock on it, and a camping 
bed next to the wall. 

On this they laid their burden and then stood 
about and looked at him more carefully than they 
had yet had a chance to do. 

*'Ah! it^s you, Sam! I^d know you anywhere, 
Sam,” exclaimed Dade. 

‘^Yes, Si, but th — is is the last of Sam Hil — Hil 
— derbrand!” gasped the sufferer. 

''Where are you hurt?” asked Captain Fran- 
$ois. "Never mind, I see, it's your chest,” he 
added noticing Sam's hand that was pressed to it. 

Father Duncan assisted in unfastening Sam's 
shirt. "He must be suffering agonizing pain. See 
his pallor even in this dim light! He looks like 
a piece of clay.” 


494 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


‘‘He can^t last more than a few minutes/^ said 
Frangois. 

After a pause, seeing that the suffering man 
rallied somewhat Father Duncan asked : “Is there 
anything you wish us to do for you?^^ 

“Yes; when I^m dead, take my body to Jake 
Hollow — bury it — in the little cemetery by the 
crooked oaks.” 

They all knew the place he meant and united 
with Father Duncan in giving an affirmative re- 
ply* 

It was evident that the famous “bushwhacker” 
was dying. He shuddered occasionally, probably 
when he considered the journey near at hand — so 
thought those looking on who were all acquainted 
with the man^s history. 

Suddenly an expression of fear spread over his 
countenance. He tried to speak but weakness 
prevented him. 

“He will die hard,” murmured Silas. 

“Do not be afraid, Hilderbrand,” said Father 
Duncan, “we will stay with you until the end, and 
you can die in peace if you only will.” 

A look of surprise overspread his face. 

“Do you believe in God?” asked the priest. 

It was several minutes before the answer came 


THE SILENT WATCH 


495 


and when it did come the men instinctively drew 
back. 

‘‘Yes, in the God of revenge!” and a new 
strength seemed to have been instilled in the frail 
body. Probably the memory of his dark deeds 
sent the blood coursing through his veins with 
greater vigor. “He has permitted me to punish 
my enemies. As for your God He would not 
understand but would only count it as murder. 
Entreat Him not for me. He said: ‘Vengeance is 
mine’ — Let Him mete out to me the full measure 
of His wrath. Ah I but I’ve glutted my soul to the 
full — yes to the full! And in fear of no man 
have I lived. Do you believe that at Death’s 
door, I will become a cringing hypocrite?” He 
stopped from exhaustion. 

Father Duncan said not a word, neither did his 
companions. Then every word they had heard 
about Sam Hilderbrand was true. In his thirst 
for vengeance he had not stopped at his enemies 
but had been guilty of multiplied murders — and 
in cold blood, too. Here on his deathbed he 
gloated over the recollection of deeds of unpar- 
ralleled cruelty. 

“Ah! but the world’s been hard on him, you 
must remember,” said Si, as a sort of apology. 

Those about paid no attention to the remark, 


496 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


but the words were not lost on Sam and he looked 
up at Dade, a ray of gratitude shining in his al- 
most glassy eyes. 

Father Duncan noted the expression and knelt 
at the bedside to pray. 

Sam spoke in a somewhat gentler voice: 

‘Thank you, but let me pass out as I have lived 
— a dripping dagger, a firebrand. What is to be 
will be; God is just. I am not prepared to die as 
you would have me but I^m ready.^’ 

There was such finality in his words that even 
Father Duncan forebore from pressing him, but a 
prayer was sent heavenward just the same; then 
the good man arose and stood by his companions. 

Sam tried to speak but pain prevented him. 
He shook in a paroxysm of agony for a long time. 
Silas, of the four men present, was the one who 
seemed most affected by the scene and he walked 
up and down the narrow space tugging away at 
his beard. 

When the suffering abated Sam spoke again: 

‘T have a request to make. There, in the cor- 
ner, is my rifle, ‘Kill Devir, put it in the grave 
with me.^’ 

Frangois asked: 

“Did you know my father, Paul Francois?” 


THE SILENT WATCH 


497 


“Ah! the one in the grave at the top? — yes, but 
only in passing/' 

“How did you happen to find this underground 
place?" 

“By accident — soldiers were after me. I ran — 
and — ^hid in the briars about this place. I lay on 
my stomach on the ground — in front of the stone 
hearth. After the soldiers went away I sat on 
the great stone and because it looked so large and 
appeared to be so heavy I examined it. It was 
carefully hewn. My eyes fell on a round hole in 
the middle of the outer edge, and just to pass the 
time I kept jabbing a stick down in the hole." 

“And?" but FranQois received no answer. Sam 
had spoken with great difficulty and finally 
stopped for want of breath. By the time he re- 
covered somewhat he seemed to have forgotten 
what he had been saying. 

“You have only to examine the stone to get 
your clue to the situation," said Father Duncan 
to Frangois. “The hearthstone is the entrance 
to a natural cave or passage leading to one. It 
must have been fitted up with weights and has a 
trap catch or combination in the front. Strange 
you never saw your father at work on it. Did 
you never suspect its existence?" 

“Never." 


498 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

''Was the stone there when you left home the 
•first time?” 

"Yes.” After a while Frangois continued: 

"I wish I knew who brought these things down 
here?” 

"I did,” answered the dying man. 

"Did you arrange the entrance and the steps?” 

"No.” 

"There are many of these subterranean passages 
in this country,” explained Father Duncan. "Over 
on the Brenan farm there^s one that extends un- 
derground for a good half mile.” 

"IVe come across some in the hills,” said Bud. 
"In Joplin, three hundred miles from here, IVe 
seen several caves.” 

"But this is much smaller than the other caves 
in the neighborhood,” interposed Frangois, "and it 
sems to be only a passage — I wonder if we could 
find any chambers. You could scarcely call this 
one.” He felt the walls: "everything seems dry, 
and that can only be where there is circulation of 
air. I wonder where the air comes from.” 

Father Duncan leaned over Sam and asked: 

"Have you found the other opening? There 
must be one.” 

Hilderbrand signified he had not. 

"How strange it is,” murmured Frangois, "I 


THE SILENT WATCH 


499 


wonder what Father had in mind when he made 
that odd door at the mouth/’ 

Hilderbrand’s eyes were fixed on Francois. 

“You say you are the son of the man in the 
grave up yonder? His name, his given name was 
Paul, what’s yours?” 

At this unexpected question Frangois quivered 
with excitement. 

“Jean Frangois,” he answered, and kneeling 
down at the side of the bed in order not to miss 
a sound he asked : “Think well, have you anything 
to tell me? Have you ever found anything?” 

“Jean? ah! it is clear to me now. On the walls 
— in passage I saw that name carved — four times 
— in the rock. There is an arrow pointing. Look 
by that small opening — in the wall there. See the 
letters ^J. F.’ ” The sufferer seemed no longer in 
pain, only a great feebleness required great effort 
on his part to talk at all. 

Frangois had arisen and examined the wall. 

“Yes,” he said after satisfying himself that the 
letters were indeed there. 

“I crawled down for — one hundred and more 
feet. Then the passage widens to — a flat crevice 
twenty or thirty feet across. The overhead hangs 
so low I could not crawl further. But with a 
light I could see a long way off. The opening must 


500 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


be that — side at the end. The floor of this slit 
in the earth — he gasped for breath and seemed 
to forget, so mixed up were his words: ^^slit earth 
— floor — all over, yes — all over — floor — then he 
stopped short and was silent for more than a min- 
ute before ending: ^^almost solid — lead.'' 

A murmured exclamation burst simultaneously 
from the lips of the bystanders. 

They strained their ears to catch the slightest 
whisper from Sam. Father Duncan by a gesture 
signified that the end was near and was about to 
kneel when Hilderbrand rallied perceptibly and 
continued: ‘‘Your father must — have discovered 
a mine — and kept it — for you. I was afraid I 
could not — live much longer so I wrote a letter 
and was going to — mail it when the stone — " 

Silas could keep silent no longer: 

“Jist like your Dad, Cap'n. He didn't care for 
it hisself. I see now why he was so 'xact 'bout 
where his grave should be dug. Howamsoiver — " 
“Sh — " cried Frangois. 

“You've all been kind to me." Hilderbrand 
spoke in an altered voice- “I can't see any more, 
all is dark— dark! Hold me, I'm falling. Don't 
forget — Kill Devil. I know you won't — ^when I'm 
gone. I, also, want to — warn you — about this — 
place. It looks all right— but it isn't. Look out—" 


THE SILENT WATCH 


501 


The little scrawny man stretched out and closed 
his eyes. 

All remained silent for a while. Life was not 
yet extinct — the only sign was a very slight sound 
as the air was puffed out spasmodically from two 
pallid lips. 

So intently did the watchers observe the dy- 
ing man’s breathing that they were like men 
startled from heavy sleep when Hilderbrand sud- 
denly raised himself on an elbow and cried : 

“Quick! — give me — give me Kill Devil. I must 
— make one more notch!” He fell back as unex- 
pectedly as he had risen and a terrible convulsion 
shook his frame ; then he lay rigid. He was dead. 

“I told ye he’d die hard,” murmured Dade. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


A NEW OUTLOOK. 

The four men grouped about the rough bed re- 
mained motionless for several minutes. 

‘^He is gone/' said Father Duncan simply, and 
kneeling he offered a prayer. Frangois knelt while 
Silas and Bud listened with bowed heads. 

After a short consultation it was thought ad- 
visable not to admit the curious public into the 
subterranean passage. Still, the exploding of the 
ghost story must be given in such a manner as to 
satisfy everybody, and the details of Hilderbrand's 
death should not lead to an investigation of the 
cave. Silas suggested that the body be carried 
to the mouth of the passage and left on the steps 
until he could go about and summon three or four 
of the village people. In the meantime his three 
companions would disappear and come in with 
some of the neighbors. It would not be possible 
to conceal the existence of the passage, otherwise 
how explain the supposed ghost? 

“So, while we are here," suggested Bud, “we 


502 


A NEW OUTLOOK 


503 


may as well investigate the mine. There is noth- 
ing we can do for the dead man — it is too early 
to call in anyone.” 

They agreed upon this, and Captain Frangois 
with lantern in hand led the way, entering the 
hole in th6 wall and proceeding on all fours. The 
other followed in this order: Bud, Father Duncan, 
and Silas. 

Progress was slow. The floor of the narrow 
lead presented many difficulties in the way of 
sharp, cone-shaped stones which cut into hands 
and knees, and at some places the closing down of 
the overhead made advance extremely difficult, al- 
most impossible. Especially was this the case with 
Father Duncan who was the possessor of a goodly 
amount of fat, and sandwiched as he was between 
Bud and Silas he could not turn back, nor be left 
behind. Thus on and on they crawled until they 
came to the widening of the wat just as Hilder- 
brand had described it. 

Not only did the passage, the whole distance 
from the entrance, slope perceptibly to the cham- 
ber, but the explorers had been crawling down- 
ward since entering the small tunnel. Upon reach- 
ing the widened part and seeing no elevation in 
the ceiling, a depressing feeling stole over them, 
a feeling that suggested to them most potently 


504 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


that they were far into the earth — far from the 
free air on top where trees grow and man rests 
content. A shudder shook their frames, and 
when they spoke, their voices sounded flat and 
metallic. 

“It never occurred to me we were going so far 
below the surface,'' said Frangois, starting the con- 
versation now they were going forward and 
abreast, he and Bud setting the two lanterns an 
arm's length as they went. 

“Neither I, Captain. My holy orders have 
called me to many parts of the earth, but never 
in its interior," replied Father Duncan. 

“This here thing gives me the creeps," put in 
Dade, “I can't say as I'm hankerin' after many of 
these expeditions." 

Bud said nothing. 

During the next few minutes all that could be 
heard was the dragging sound made by the 
crawlers and the clicks of the tin lanterns as they 
were moved forward on the rock bottom. 

Presently Dade spoke again : 

“Fellers, I haint saying I'm superstitious or 
chickenhearted, but don't forgit that Sam warned 
us back yonder against sunthin' or other. It's 
pesterin' me a little. This 'd be a bum awkward 
pigeon for a calamity to befaU us in. Begosh!" 


A NEW OUTLOOK 


505 


From the beginning the whole affair had pre- 
sumed on good steady nerves, but there was such 
a thing as getting off into a panicky zone. What 
Dade said was not a laughing matter, as after- 
wards developed, neither did any one smile at the 
time he spoke. 

Frangois finally said: 

^True, Uncle Si, but you must remember the 
poor fellow was delirious. That would account for 
almost anything he said.” 

^Tut! tut! his mind was clear enough. So far 
haint everything turned out as he said?” 

^^Did he know what he was saying when he ad- 
dressed his last words to his rifle?” 

^^Sure he did, for every notch in that rifle stood 
for a life taken. So you see, Cap’n, that don^t 
prove nuthin^ ”, and Dade after muttering to him- 
self a little while longer lapsed into silence. 

They continued forward until they came to a 
wide flat horizontal opening thirty or forty feet 
from side to side, and less than three feet high. 

“There it is I ” cried Frangois. “We have it — the 
vein of lead!” 

It was so, — a vein of rich lead disseminated in 
rock, some of it a softwhite rock which Dade called 
“tiff.” They scrambled along as far as the gradual 
narrowing of the slit would permit, and the ex- 


506 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


posed part of the vein of ore continued — it seemed 
to be endless. 

Each in the party broke off specimens of the 
lead ore, also rock and lead and tiff, using the heels 
of their boots. They filled their coat and trouser 
pockets. 

This, indeed, was the great mine for which the 
Syndicate had been delving for months, and the 
mine the engineers had theorized about for a quar- 
ter of a century — ever since pocket lead was first 
discovered. The men recalled these things as they 
lay there, flat on their stomachs, and remarked on 
the surprise in store for the organization — when 
they learned of the hidden treasure. Bud recalled 
an old tradition about the discovery of a great 
mine that was exposed in one of the numerous 
caves in Missouri. Uncle Aubuchon had once told 
him the story which ran that a chieftain of the 
Kaws had offered to take Louis Choutou, of St. 
Louis, to the cave that contained the mine — a lead 
mine — for the reward of two barrels of whiskey. 

After walking across wild country for several 
days and enjoying a series of adventures, the chief- 
tain was taken captive by a band of hostile In- 
dians, and Louis Choutou barely escaped with his 
life. It was thought the Indian played a trick on 
the White Man—the whiskey having been paid in 


A NEW OUTLOOK 


507 


advance — and that the attack was planned by 
confederates of the Chieftain after the latter had 
tried in vain to weary his fellow traveler by taking 
him through a veritable lab 5 n'inth of forest trails. 

Now the lead mine was found — Paul Francois 
must have come upon it by chance — probably af- 
ter Frangois left home. 

After examining the rough diagrams and sketches 
made then and there, Bud and Frangois concluded 
they were approaching the neighborhood of the 
main shaft, on which they had been at work re- 
cently, the shaft known as Bonne Terre No. 1. 
They also concluded that the main lode upon 
which they then reposed, must be from two hun- 
dred twenty-five to two hundred fifty feet below 
surface. 

While still speculating on the wonderful dis- 
covery and its potentialities, they turned back to 
retrace the tunnel. For half an hour they searched 
vainly for the way out. Weary from dragging 
himself about over the irregular rocks, poor old 
Dade was exhausted, the four men huddled to- 
gether and stared at each other in amazement. 
Frangois was positive the crude map he and Bud 
had drawn represented the location as far as the 
surface was concerned, but since turning hither and 
thither so often, he was afraid they had lost their 


508 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

bearing as far as the exit was concerned. Of one 
thing they were certain, it was there, and they 
must creep upward. After the incidents of the 
night and the warning that Dade again reminded 
them of in forcible terms, their present predica- 
ment drove them frantic. 

^‘We got here, we must get out!” repeated Bud 
over and over. 

“There's no use in getting excited, of course 
well get out!” said Frangois. 

“Can't you two young men go ahead and find 
the opening?” Father Duncan was puffing heav- 
ily. “I shouldn't mind if only we could walk 
about instead of crawling.” 

“I admit it's a purty tight place for you. Father, 
an' I've been a- wonderin' how you stood out so 
long. You kin hold your own with those boys, all 
right.” 

A low sigh was the answer. 

Captain Frangois diverted the attention from 
Father Duncan by exclaiming: 

“I feel a draft!” 

“That's nuthin' new!” answered Silas, “I've been 
a-feelin' it long ago. It only makes this here place 
feel all the creepier.” 

“Ah! I have it, nevertheless!” retorted Fran- 


A NEW OUTLOOK 


609 


Qois. commented on the influx of fresh air. 

It comes in from this part.^’ 

‘^Well?^^ asked his companions in one voice. 

Frangois did not reply, but he drew out his pipe, 
filled it and lit it. 

'^Now we will follow the smoke.” The puffs of 
smoke which he emitted floated away in front of 
him. 

Dade called out merrily: 

^‘Smoke up, Cap^n! I always did say smokin^ 
has saved lots of fellers from one thin^ or tuther. 
This is one of the Tuther’ things. ’Igh Jinks! keep 
it up, I say, ’t will save us.” 

It did. Soon afterwards the small tunnel was 
found, and Frangois leading the advance while he 
smoked furiously shouted that he could see the 
steady gleam of the light they had left near Hil- 
derbrand’s room. A few more yards traversed on 
hands and knees brought them through the hole in 
the wall and into the death chamber. 

“Now, Uncle Si, you carry both lanterns and 
‘Kill Devil’, and we will carry Hilderbrand’s body 
to the mouth of the cave or passage.” 

The procession moved out of the gloomy cavern. 
There could be no harm in permitting the lamp to 
burn on, so they abandoned it to sap out its own 
existence. On reaching the top once more they 


510 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


laid the lifeless form upon the grass — that being 
thought the best way — and stood looking at it as 
if fascinated. 

Already the approach of day reddened the east- 
ern sky, and several flues, down in the village, 
fogged roofs with clouds of whitish smoke. Early 
risers were astir. It was well for the watchers that 
at this time of the year especially, no one needed 
nor cared to venture near the grave at this early 
hour. In a very short while stragglers would be 
seen in the streets, and busy housewives would be 
hustling to Dade's Store. 

The plans were slightly revised : Dade hurried 
to his Store and the other three men simply went 
away in different directions. 

Dade started a fire in his place — just enough to 
send a column of smoke through the chimney. 
After that was done, he judged that a sufficient 
number of the village people were up and busy, so 
he ran in the direction of the grave. Two of the 
up-and-abouts saw him and wondered. A quar- 
ter of an hour later, he came towards the village 
in great haste. On meeting a man he cried: 

'The ghost at the grave is dead. Call every- 
body quick, an accident must have overtook him!” 

The alarm was given and brought out excited 
men and women and, bare-headed and wild-eyed, 


A NEW OUTLOOK 


511 


they collected about old Silas and listened to his 
story. 

^The ghost? Who said T was a ghost? It^s jist 
an oldish chap who took a fancy to livin’ in a cave. 
I was cornin’ this way jist a while ago when I 
heerd him moan, so I run an’ found him crushed 
by a rock which had cove in an’ killed him. I 
pulled him out, an’ now jist come an’ see, maybe 
someone knows him.” 

Frangois and Bud joined the rapidly increasing 
throng. Even Father Duncan was there in time 
to hear Silas repeat the story for the fourth time. 
Flora and her mother, Malinda and Obediah, came 
up closely followed by Virginia and Mrs. Bards- 
dell — in fact three-fourths of the population of 
Bonne Terre were grouped in the street. 

“Come!” called out DadOj and the curious crowd 
stepped behind him at a lively pace. No one re- 
turned home for a hat or bonnet, not even prim 
Mrs. Birsch. Several women wore wrappers and 
heavy coats. Men’s shoes were not laced nor did 
they wear collars and ties. As they went they 
plied Dade with questions. 

“How can I answer you? ’Twarn’t no ghost. 
Years an’ years back when the people about here, 
them that was here before your time, said they 
saw a ghost I told them not to put truck in no sich 


512 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


flum-gasterin^ stuff! Ghosts, ha! ha! Who ever 
seen a ghost? As you’ns T see soon ^nough, this 
was some fool of a hermit what hasn^t had no bet- 
ter sense than to hide underground an’ make a lot 
of waggin’ tongues wag! 

^Who is he? some relation of Paul Frangois? 
What ever puts that in yer heads? He haint no 
sich thing! Old Paul and Helen, too, never had 
relations! When they both stands before you and 
those that’s gone from these parts, in Kingdom 
Come, ye’ll have a divil of a time ’splaining an 
’pologizin’ to them, that all I’ve got to say. But 
I won’t ’cause I never believed in Ghosts. Believe 
me ! Si Dade haint one of your gabblers and trem- 
bly-kneed superstitionists ! ” 

Fortunately Silas was a privileged person in 
Bonne Terre. That morning he looked like a 
semi-ancient patriarch as he led his flock through 
brambles and almost impossible-to-pass-through 
branches of scrub oak tangled up in places with 
vines. 

It now required but a few minutes of running 
and plucking of skirts from briars to bring the 
crowd to the lone chimney and walled-in grave. 
When they rushed up to look over the wall their 
faces were pale and an expression of horror stole 
over their features as they gazed on the stark 


A NEW OUTLOOK 


513 


corpse of the small gray-bearded man that lay on 
the sward, hands folded over his breast, eyes half 
open. The bosom of his hickory shirt was soaked 
with blood. 

The yawning mouth of the cave, with the cover- 
ing and the hearth-stone now resting athwart the 
entrance, verified Dade’s story of death by acci- 
dent. These details were taken in at a glance. 
Then the crowd drew back aghast. 

Dade, the man of the hour, addressed them : 

^‘Nigh unto ten years ago, with two or three I 
now see — their heads bowed and nearly white, an’ 
with more ’n three hundred others from the woods 
here abouts an’ yonder from the loneliness of the 
hills, I stood on this spot an’ spoke at the funeral 
of Paul an’ Helen Frangois. 

^*But how different it looks now! Then the 
cracklin’ flames, the deceased funeral pile from 
ch’ice, lighted up a dense wilderness that wam’t 
this here Bonne Terre of these times. Again, then 
’t was the close of a wintry day with snow all 
around, ’t was the gatherin’ of the old backwoods- 
men to witness the endin’ out of which a new place 
was to spring. I passes over the intervening time 
when the War come like a scourge though during 
those times there hung over the mem’ry of the best 
friends we old-timers ever had, the story of a ghost 


514 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


which we now see haint a ghost at all, jist a piece, 
a bit of clay with no semblance whatsoiver to Paul 
Frangois. 

‘^Now, it's all changed. 'Tis the beginning of a 
day instead of the close and new faces looks up at 
me, old Silas Dade, who loves you, his new children, 
same as the old-timers. Behold a village there on 
the three hills, and — and a great mine is at hand — 
mind my words! Modern times have come to us 
with a leap, I say. Away with superstition and 
ghosts! The accidental death of this here old 
man, whatsoever and whosoever he be knocks the 
old story of the ghost plum' off its base. See here 
it goes with the last of him. Who built that chim- 
ney and for what purpose was that huge hearth- 
stone place there? Ah! my frien's that will soon 
appear. Yes, I answer the question in yer eyes, 
Paul FranQois placed them there, that is all I'll say 
now. 

'‘As I've been a-sayin' the old has passed away. 
A new outlook is at hand. Today we'll all go to 
the little cemetery an' put him away," Silas point- 
ed dramatically to the corpse — "up yonder on the 
hillside, that 'll be the end. To-morry ye'll set yer 
faces towards the new and forgit all 'bout the old." 

Father Duncan and Frangois assisted by Bud 
gently lifted the form of Sam Hilderbrand over 


A NEW OUTLOOK 


515 


the wall, and the groups of impressed people 
bowed their heads while a crude stretcher was im- 
provised with poles and some pieces of board. 
Gradually the preparations interested the crowd 
and they all looked on, preparatory to accompany- 
ing the body to the village where it was announced 
it would be laid out as became the age of the 
hermit — no one suspected the dead man to be Sam 
Hilderbrand. 

While almost complete silence reigned there 
broke upon the ears of the spectators a growling, 
fiercely muffled report like the boom of heavy 
thunder at sea. All thought of the cave — the 
sound gurgled out from its throat! Immediately 
an overlaying slice of soil and rock, evidently the 
full length of the passage, loosened by the blasting 
in the mine, tumbled in, completely choking 
the great cavity. Then a gust of dust laden air 
puffed out of the trembling earth and the old stone 
chimney shook violently and crumbled in ruins ! 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 


LOYALTY. 

Tongues were most vigorously set agog by the 
events surrounding the discovery of the cave, the 
^^ghost man,^^ and his death and burial. Many 
theories accounted for the existence of the subter- 
ranean passage and as many for the reasons the 
“individual” had to warrant his hiding there — pro- 
bably a fugitive from justice from distant parts; 
no one guessed he was Hilderbrand. However, on 
returning from the hillside cemetery where the un- 
identified body was covered over with red clay — 
“Kill Devil” having been smuggled in the grave 
before the crowd assembled — the talk waned, and 
soon the folk of Bonne Terre became absorbed in 
affairs of home and business. The thing of prime 
interest was the future of the mines. If they 
suceeded all would be well. As for the ghost, a 
story more or less after all counted but little: all 
must give way before the hopes for the morrow. 

The night following the clearing up of the grave 


LOYALTY 


517 


mystery old Basil called at the Inn and asked for 
Francois. 

The old Frenchman had discarded his buckskin 
apparel and wore citizen's clothing. He carried a 
portmanteau. A joyful smile illumined his deep- 
ly furrowed features and his eyes in place of their 
accustomed piercing, alert expression wore a look 
of faraway absentmindedness as regarded the pre- 
sent. The sight of the traveling bag suggested 
preoccupied anticipation of a long journey which 
excited him subconsciously giving him the appear- 
ance of a changed man. 

^What is the meaning of all this?" asked Fran- 
cois looking over his friend. 

^T’m going home!" exclaimed Basil. ^Xeaving 
in the morning." 

‘^Home? Going home? What do you mean?" 

But Basil did not answer, just smiled and shook 
his head affirmatively. 

‘Tn that case you are going to stay with me until 
morning." 

'^No; the man over Elvin's Hill is going to drive 
me to French Village. We shall reach there at 
about eleven or twelve. I must see Frank AuBu- 
chon before I go." 

^^What had decided this sudden departure?" 

'The call of my country. Although war has not 


518 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


been yet declared, to my mind it is a foregone con- 
clusion that within a year war will come on be- 
tween France and Germany. I want to be there. 
My country may need me.” 

^^But?” 

^'Ah! you think me too old? No; my son. Have 
I given up my daily pursuits? Well, a man be- 
comes too old to serve his country when he be- 
comes tottery and is good for naught else than to 
sit in the corner near the fireplace. Whoever for- 
gets home is no man. 

^^When your country needed you, I advised you 
to go. You went, and you came back as Mon 
brave Capitaine, that testified for your valor. It 
was proof to me you did your duty. Now I go. 
Wish me luck. Who knows that on my return 
you may not have to greet me as a superior offi- 
cer?” and the old fellow chuckled over his joke. 

'^Why not?” answered Frangois, “that would not 
surprise me. In France colonels and generals are 
always elderly men. Which shall it be?” 

So they talked for a while, Frangois deeply 
touched by BasiFs patriotism. He could not for- 
get the land of his birth, and feeling as he did, the 
old Frenchman could not keep away. He under- 
stood and saw a new meaning in the phrase “Love 
for one^s country.” Just as he, Frangois, wtnild at 


LOYALTY 


519 


times wander back among the scenes of his child- 
hood while thousands of miles away from Bonne 
Terre, he realized that the old man, alone in his 
hermit^s cabin, must have done likewise to keep 
burning the fire that now animated him. Many 
are kept away from home by circumstances but 
few are weaned completely froni its enchantments. 

Francois walked with Basil over the hill and 
told him all that had happened during the last few 
days. To Frangois^s surprise Basil said: 

“You must be more careful than ever before. I 
am somewhat afraid for you and wish I could stay 
to advise you. You need all the help you can get 
but only confide in tried and trusty friends. You 
have a few, but keep to those few. By wise man- 
agement and handling you will come on top.’^ 

They were soon over the hill and bade each 
other an affectionate farewell. Francois watched 
Basil go off towards the farmer’s home, he was 
about to turn away when Basil retraced his steps 
motioning to Frangois to advance likewise. 

“Although I feel I shall see you again, I may be 
mistaken. As I was going just now, a caution 
your father asked me to enjoin on you came to my 
mind. I must tell it you before I leave. What he 
meant by it I do not know, he never liked to be 
questioned. 


520 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


‘Tour father and I hunted much together and 
although he was several years my senior, he spoke 
freely to me as to a man of his own age. He spoke 
incessantly of you, but of his family, himself, his 
aflBliations, his business he spoke not at all. How- 
ever, one day he said : 

“ Tf ever Jean comes back, tell him to look care- 
fully to the squatting oak.’ That was all, a simple 
statement enough. No doubt it was a whim, but 
no matter what it is, I am fulfilling my duty by 
telling you.” 

“Thank you, Basil. You are one of two men to 
whom my father said that. It is curious. What 
could he have meant? such a stem man could not 
have had a sentimental motive in saying that.” 

“Have you ever looked closely at the tree?” 
asked Basil. 

“Not particularly. I played under it when a 
child. Since then I have always loved it.” 

“Well, do not expect much, for in passing under 
it since the caution was entrusted to me I’ve 
looked at it carefully, and it seems no different 
from other trees of its kind. I am only relieving 
myself of a light burden in shifting it over to you. 
Humph ! he was queer, poor Paul. Think of his 
strange burial and all the annoyance it caused 
you!” 


LOYALTY 


521 


“We can forget that now, and, indeed, should 
I not have cause to rejoice?” 

“We shall see! we shall see! It all depends on 
your handling of the situation.” 

“Father was an unusual man as I have found 
out last night and to-day what you say may have 
a hidden meaning. Imagine, Basil, how strange it 
seems that I should have lived with him until the 
age of fifteen and never known of the entrance to 
the subterranean passage. What of his wonderful 
and cleverly made hearthstone door? I can scarce- 
ly believe I have not dreamed it all.” 

“You must remember, my sdn, that it was his 
love for you that prompted all his strange acts. 
He wanted to see you a man before he gave you 
the key to his possessions with their vast possibil- 
ities. He wanted you to be a poor man's son until 
you were brought up through trials and labor to 
hardihood and self-reliance. How often did he 
deplore to me his state without ever revealing the 
cause. It must have been some high sense of 
honor and duty that kept him silent and his chaf- 
ing under the restraint only proves the strong will 
he brought to bear on himself. Do you know that 
your father possessed all the culture you have of- 
ten admired in me besides much larger stores of 
knowledge? To these people in the hiUa he spoke 


522 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


the backwoods dialect and he was old Paul but not 
to his friend Basil. While I deplored, I respected 
his reticence about his family and his past, and I 
always saw in him the gentleman and man of 
principles he was at heart.’^ Basil paused. After 
a few minutes of meditation as if he were living 
over the past, he continued : 

^Wishing you to be such a man as he had in 
mind, he pressed you beyond a boy’s endurance, 
and you fled. I am not blaming you. I never 
have, but you did the right thing when you re- 
turned.” 

He held out his hand. 

^ Write me to the Chateau d’Armaise, near 
Rouen.” 

Frangois again watched the old trapper disap- 
pear in the distance, thinking him no less extra- 
ordinary than his father. He would miss Basil. 
He had a stronger hold on Frangois’s affection 
than old Silas by reason of their congeniality, their 
compatibility. As he mediated one train of 
thought led on to another and it was quite late 
when he shook himself free from their entrance- 
ment and found himself quite a distance from 
home. Still it was not yet bedtime so he walked 
along the path from Elvins Hill to Blue Hill, and 
then on and on past the scattered stones of the 


LOYALTY 


523 


chimney. “To-morrow, I must come and finish 
filling up the mouth of the cave and clean up the 
grave. Now the chimney’s down I’ll put up a 
headstone.” Then sauntering on, he passed the 
squatting oak: “I’ll inspect you to-morrow, also.” 
One minute he paused and looked at the tree then 
shrugged his shoulders and continued his way. 

Still walking pensively along he came in front of 
the Birsch home. By the light of the newly-risen 
moon he recognized Flora and Bolivar on the side 
veranda. They appeared to be engaged in earnest 
conversation. A little further on he passed the 
residence of the Bardsdells and through the parlor 
window he saw Ryan and Virginia. His heart 
contracted but he managed to brace up and say: 
“Humph ! those two girls always do the same thing 
and at the same time. They’re most probably 
listening to the same theme.” He walked away 
quickly. 

He was in the humor for talking to himself. 
When he caught sight of Dade’s Store, he re- 
marked half aloud: “What a quaint old man. 
Uncle Si. Just as unusual in his way and just as 
wonderful as Basil. I can imagine his feeling just 
as my old French friend does about his country if 
he were taken away from here. These backwoods 
never knew a truer friend than Silas. Pity there 


524 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


are not more like him. I love him for what he is, 
his mannerisms, and wise sayings.'^ 

But 2§;d& could not overshadow the vision of 
Virginia, caught as he went by her home and he 
asked himself the question: ‘'Can I blame her if 
she accepts all this man has to offer her? Perhaps 
I should have had more confidence in her, what if 
she were to be lost to me now? Of what avail 
would be all the riches of this earth? Still, if she 
is all that I believe her to be, I have reason to hope 
that loyalty to earlier associations and love of 
home and these quiet hills might prevail over the 
lure of riches and city life as proffered by that 
man.^’ But by and by a voice mocked him: “What 
right have you to her?’' and all during the night he 
was pursued by dreams in which the woman he 
loved became as illusive as a phantom. 

Was it the curious workings of telepathy that 
suggested Virginia to his mind after he tried to 
divert himself with a studied analysis of old Dade. 
Perhaps, for he was uppermost in the mind of Vir- 
ginia, while Bud Dade’s strong, stalwart figure was 
as clearly defined in Flora’s. 

Precisely at the hour that Frangois strolled past 
the Birsch and Bardsdell homes, questions likely 
to make or mar the significance of several lives 
were being decided. 


LOYALTY 


525 


Flora might have recognized Bud^s friend as he 
went his way had she not been so busily engaged 
in conversation, — Flora was always heart and soul 
in everything she said or did. 

‘T do not doubt your sincerity, she was saying 
to Sam Bolivar. 'Tn fact I feel you mean all you 
are saying.'' 

‘What a relief! I feared you thought I was 
trifling with your affection. Because you know we 
admitted to each other it was all begun in fun — 
but only the first day, remember!" 

“Mr. Bolivar, please let us not talk about that. 
I really like you so much that it pains me to — " 

“I do not wish to pain you," said Sam with 
earnestness, “but I do entreat you. Miss Flora — " 

“No, I cannot permit you. You must take my 
answer of the other day as final." 

“Then why, may I ask, did you consent to let 
me address you again on the subject. It is be- 
cause you were not sure of yourself. Whom, may 
I ask again, have you ever met in this out-of-way 
place who could affect you in any way?" 

“Mr. Bolivar, I consider you have no right to 
speak like that. It is no affair of yours. There 
are some very estimable people about here. If 
you'd look around you would not, no, you would — 
speak thus.^' Flora was excited and very nearly 


526 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


gave away her secret. Her cheeks were flushed 
and even the faint light of the moon showed the 
darkening of her eyes. She arose and walked to 
the farther end of the veranda. Bolivar lost no 
time but followed her, new tactics urging him on- 
ward. 

^Terhaps you do not care to live East? I see 
you are attached to this place. Well, since you 
are I’m sure there must be innumerable attrac- 
tions about, beautiful scenery — further up in the 
hills and lovely people living in rustic simplicity. 
You must be patient and teach me. In no time 
I can learn to see with your eyes.” 

Flora was obliged to laugh. All her anger dis- 
appeared and she smiled most indulgently on her 
admirer. His courage revived. 

^There seems to be something so satisfying 
about this little village. Ever since I’ve been here 
— I feel I belong here.” 

“I’m not a native of this town, St. Louis is 
really my home. No, no,” she quickly interrupted 
what she knew would be a veritable avalanche of 
praise for St. Louis, “I mean my old home.” 

“Well, as I was saying to my friend Ryan, I see 
no reason for me to live out East. Some people 
will be required to remain on this spot — I’m sure 


LOYALTY 


627 


this fellow Frangois will soon compromise — and 
why shouldn't I be one of those who stay?" 

“I see no reason. But you are again mistaking 
my feelings as far as the East is concerned. I have 
nothing against the East." 

His eyes lit up. 

'T'm sure you are sensible and would like me to 
speak openly on the subject. I know I permitted 
you to think I might listen to you, but I apologize 
from the bottom of my heart — " 

“Miss Birsch, will you frankly answer my ques- 
tion? It is not what you think — ^Yes? Then if 
you are not engaged why can you not love me in- 
stead of some man you know nothing about now 
and who is wasting precious minutes by roaming 
about the world? Here I am ready to love you 
and do your smallest bidding. I'm not asking you 
again to marry me I just would like to know why 
you can't?" 

Just then Malinda poked her head through the 
door: 

“Miss Flora, honey, here's a shawl, let me wrap 
it 'round you." 

“Damn that nigger!" cried Bolivar to himself, 
“I think she's been standing there all the while!" 

“Sho, Miss Flora, that's your chance, ah says so 
to Obediah 'very day. We'ze got more silver dol- 


528 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


lars stored away since he^s come here than in ten 
years afore his cornin'. He's your chance!" 

Flora managed to push Malinda indoors and got 
a hand firmly fixed over her mouth, but the darkey 
got her say. Flora took the shawl off and ar- 
ranged its folds to suit herself — really to gain time. 
She meant her refusal to be irrevocable. 

Ryan's pleading was long and sustained. Vir- 
ginia sat opposite him at a center table on which 
a large lamp cast upon them the full glare of its 
light. She admitted to herself that never before 
had she listened to such nearly-convincing argu- 
ments as he put forth to gain his cause, but she 
punctuated his chmax with a definite No. The 
intellectual looking young man looked at her with 
wide, calm eyes. He was baffled and stunned. 
In all things he had always won. Was it possible 
that this girl, village bred, he thought, could re- 
fuse to marry him? One minute the blood rushed 
to his head and the shame of defeat caused him to 
bite his lips. 

Virginia saw the look and was chagrined that 
her refusal should cause him such pain and humil- 
iation. She was planning to bring about a diver- 
sion in the conversation when Ryan flung at her 
the hackneyed accusation: “There's someone else 
that you love!" 


LOYALTY 


529 


The young woman raised her head with spirit: 

‘T consider you are falling from your high stan- 
dard of fairness and gentlemanly honor, Mr. Ryan. 
YouVe admitted to me a while ago that since 
meeting you I have done and said nothing to war- 
rant your assuming I cared for you otherwise than 
a pleasant acquaintance. When I say No to your 
proposal, giving as my reason that I do not care for 
you as I should for the man I marry, but that on 
the other hand I esteem you worthy of any 
woman^s confidence and affection, you should not 
inquire further.’’ 

The young man winced under the reprimand, 
flushed, and hastened to apologize. 

^‘Before I accept apologies, and that you may 
not be in doubt as to the finality of my answer, 
Mr. Ryan,” her voice became low and sweet, and 
her rare individuality shone in her eyes, “Yes. I 
admit that you are right, there is another whom I 
love with all the strength of mind and heart I 
possess, but I am not engaged. It may be that I 
shall never be nearer to him than I am at present. 
Beyond that you should not care to know, only, 
I evidently made a mistake in assuming that my 
love for one man precluded my extending my 
friendship to another.” 

The rebuke was not lost upon Ryan. He ac- 
cepted his rejection without further insistence. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


THE CLEARING OF THE WAY. 

There was a snapping of burning briars in the 
little heap without the wall. The last stone of the 
old chimney had been thrown into the mouth of 
the cavern and the whole covered over with earth. 
Dade and Bud and Frangois finished smoothing 
down the fresh soil with their spades and then 
rested on the handles of their implements, admir- 
ing their completed work. 

‘TVe ordered a new stone from Ste. Gene- 
vieve’s,” said Frangois, ''to make a suitable mark- 
ing for the grave. The epitaph, exclusive of dates, 
will read: 

" 'PAUL and HELEN 
of BONNE TERRE,’ 

Friends of the Settlers 
and Backwoodsmen!” 

The three agreed that the end had come to 
all superstitious beliefs with reference to Fran- 
gois’s father. Henceforth his parents could rest 


530 


THE CLEARING OF THE WAY 531 


in peace, and for that much, if for nothing more, 
the son was thankful. 

^^Now, Uncle Si, since weVe finished, let us turn 
to the squatting oak. You say my father asked 
you several times to commend it to me. Basil, in 
bidding me farewell, spoke of it. Let us examine 
it carefully and satisfy ourselves once for all 
whether or not it holds a secret. See, its boughs 
are calling us. Yes, I know I’m getting fanciful 
but father was such an extraordinary man!” 

Without more words they gathered up spades, 
axes, and rakes, and walked abreast to the spot, 
fifty yards away, where the giant oak stood firmly 
planted on the hillside, a big knot near its base 
giving it the appearance of kneeling on one knee. 
Early frosts had mellowed the leaves and browned 
them pending their return to dust, and the sap 
was being slowly drained into the taproot and 
branching feet, that the bark might be left dry and 
tough to weather the winter blasts. Three feet in 
diameter, it could look with disdain upon the 
dwarf postoaks and blackjacks. 

^'Ah! Jean, I can remember when your mother 
laid you down on an old quilt, as a babe, to play 
an’ coo under its spreadin’ branches.” 

'Well, I can’t go that far back, but I remember 
harnessing the big knot with straps of hickory 


532 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


bark and calling it my horse. When I left home, 
at the age of fifteen, I turned and came near going 
back home as I saw it far above the other trees, 
waving me good-bye, or calling me — I could not 
decide which. It might have guessed the grief 
that awaited me on my return. Since then a few 
rings have been added to the grain of its body, but 
it matters not. Two centuries to come will not 
impair its vigor. 

“What’s it you inten’ doin’?” asked Si. 

“Search its rugged trunk and those strong limbs 
that stretch horizontally, like beams supporting a 
roof. If a secret has been entrusted to that vener- 
able tree I feel that it it still safe — that the oak 
has been true to the trust confided to it, that its 
bark has not covered over any signs my father saw 
fit to imprint upon its body.” 

“Let’s hope yer won’t be disappointed, Jean.” 

The wind which was blowing quite strongly, 
scurried rudely through the thousands of twigs and 
showers of overripe acorns fell on the men who 
were admiring the monster tree. 

“A fine old fellow!” remarked Bud. “There’s 
not another like it in this neighborhood, nor in 
this country.” 

“Make a lot of fine boards or palin’s. I’d jist 


THE CLEARING OF THE WAY 533 


like to tackle it with my frow. Black oaks seldom 
gits so fine/^ 

“As long as I live, Uncle Si, your frow will never 
cleave that trunk/^ 

Of course, it was chance, but there was a merry 
rustle about the strong limbs that the wind could 
not move, and a half-thousand golden leaves cir- 
cled around Francois before falling to the ground. 

Dade exclaimed: 

“The old tree^s a-thankin' ye, Frangois.^’ 

Around and around the stout trunk they walked, 
spying out every curious wrinkle in its coat. They 
dug up the soft mold about its feet and poked 
about with sharp sticks. Nothing came to light. 

“There^s nothing to be found,” said Bud, sitting 
on the ground, his arms encircling his propped-up 
knees. 

“Well, as weVe discovered in the last few days. 
Father, did extraordinary things. We should never 
have guessed the existence of the subterranean 
passage but for the old man. Fm not ready to 
give up. Make yourself comfortable. Uncle Si, 
I'm going to climb up there. I remember Father 
topping the tree. It was such a large tree that I 
wondered at his doing it — that is the second time. 
I mean to make a thorough search while I'm at it, 
from top to bottom and side to side.” 


534 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Frangois removed his boots and tried to scram- 
ble up the rough, gnarled surface. The task was 
somewhat difficult because the Captain^s arms 
could reach but halfway around the trunk. 

^'Go on, Bud, give ’im a lif ” said Silas. 

Bud did, and gave Frangois a footing by means 
of a pole. Finally he succeeded in catching hold 
of the lowest limb, and pulling himself astride he 
gave a shout of triumph. It became an easy mat- 
ter to mount to the main fork. 

While resting a minute there came to his mind 
a vivid recollection of something he had seen his 
father do. He quickly ran his hands over the 
healed stubs of branches that had been chopped 
off, and he remembered that his father had sat just 
where he was, hacking away with an axe. He 
examined the new bark grown over the amputa- 
tions — his eyes resting all the while upon a patch 
of the oak^s mending which did not seem to be 
quite the natural covering for the socket of a lost 
member. A close scrutiny showed that there could 
not have been any amputation for the scar was 
exactly in the crotch of the main body. Taking 
his hawkbill knife, he picked into the thick rind. 

‘^Stick an axe into the pole and hand it to me!^' 
cried Frangois. 

'Scover anythin’?” asked Si. 


THE CLEARING OF THE WAY 535 


“Not yet, but there’s something here that looks 
strange, so I’m going to cut into it by way of in- 
quiry.” 

Having received the axe he hacked away and in 
a short time the blade glanced off the edge of some 
metal. 

“Ho there?” exclaimed Dade on whose ears the 
sound was not lost. 

Frangois did not answer at once, he was busy 
with his knife, trimming about the edge of an iron 
box whose exposed part measured four inches 
square. He spoke under strong emotion : 

“I’ve found it — an iron box imbedded in the 
fork of the tree!” 

Silas and Bud looked up rather incredulously. 

“Frangois, ye’re jokin’.” 

“I’m not.” 

“How large is it?” asked Bud. 

“About four inches each way. I’ve uncovered 
the lid, but I haven’t been able to pry it open — it 
fits tightly over the box.” 

“An’ ye’re that calm ’bout it, Frangois?” cried 
Dade wild with excitement. “Hurry an’ break in- 
to it!” 

“I can’t. I’m going to take time and dig it 
out, though its a job. There’s nothing to show 
how deep the box may be.” 


536 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


''Shucks! let me git up there an’ I’ll show you 
what to do. Jist dig the lid off, ’course you kin 
pry it off, what you care if you spoil the box, ’taint 
the box ye’re after.” 

"I suppose I’ll have to. If I’m careful I need 
not spoil the contents. There I’m starting.” 

"Two heads is better ’n one, if one is a sheep’s 
head,” remarked Dade. 

A few seconds after while Frangois silently 
worked away, the old man cried again : 

"Seems to me ye’re powerful calm ’bout your 
’scovery. If ’t was me findin’ sumthin’ up there, 
I’d be a-hip hawin’ an’ hurrahin’ till I’d dropped 
off the tree — with the box and the lim'!” 

Frangois worked on industriously, intent on his 
task, trimming off the overlapping sapwood which 
had hidden the incision chiseled in the body of the 
oak by his father, until the lid was altogether ex- 
posed. This lid was of the ordinary type, the 
flanges fitting down on the outside of the box 
about one inch. He pried under the rim with the 
bit of the axe and it finally yielded to the per- 
suasion. Repeated efforts brought it off with a 
fillip, and after whirring high above his head it 
fell rattling on some stones where Bud picked it 
up before it came to a standstill. 

There was the proof. 


THE CLEARING OF THE WAY 537 


A breathless suspense followed while the Cap- 
tain delved into the box, bringing out packages of 
yellowed papers. He found that the box was 
about ten inches deep. After carefully removing 
every paper he found in the bottom a pocket knife 
and a gold watch which his father had worn when 
he, Frangois, was a child and which he had missed 
seeing on his father long before he left home. 

^‘Remarkable!’' he cried. 

“Don’t waste time haranguin’ up there, Fran- 
gois, if yer thinks that’s all come down. Jist drap 
the — whatever ye’ve found — yer haven’t told us 
yet. We kin catch ’em.” 

Frangois did as he was told and shambled down 
with the aid of the pole. Once on the ground he 
seized some papers and eagerly devoured their 
contents, passing them to Dade and Bud after ex- 
amining them. 

“Why, Captain, here are your deeds and patents 
to the land,” said Bud. “Right now they are more 
precious to you than a bucketful of gold.” 

“What?” them papers tied up with that bit of 
calico string?” and Dade looked at them with awe. 

“Yes, Uncle Si. You and Bud look through the 
bundle while I go through others.” 

Having given them something to do, so as to 
occupy them, Frangois walked away from his 


538 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


friends, just a few steps and seated himself on a 
stump. There were three separate lots of papers, 
and he undid the largest bunch. It consisted of 
two packages, one, an elaborate, formidable docu- 
ment, engrossed and signed under seals and legal 
requirements by — Frangois could scarcely believe 
his eyes — Donald Douglas and his wife Theresa. 
There was no mistake, he was familiar with Don- 
ald Douglas's signature and in this case it was 
very plainly written. What could it mean? He 
wanted to read it through then and there but his 
eyes involuntarily turned to the other paper. It 
was in his father's handwriting and headed : ‘‘Im- 
portant Facts for My Son." The opening sentence 
read: “My name is Paul Grennard!” 

Dade and Bud were soon satisfied with the 
deeds, etc., and coming over to the Captain, stood 
about him, awaiting the complete story. 

But Frangois read and reread the manuscript 
without paying any attention to his lifelong 
friends. Next, he studied the document signed by 
the Douglases. When he had mastered the con- 
tents of both papers, he untied the third package. 
Scanning through its several sheets, he remarked : 

“These are descriptions, drawings, etc., of the 
mines. This one here gives the details of the con- 
struction of the hearthstone door." 


THE CLEARING OF THE WAY 539 


Taking up the deeds he carefully retied the pa- 
pers and looked at the two men for a minute be- 
fore speaking. 

^Well,” he exclaimed, brightening as if he con- 
templated a clear and sunny perspective on emerg- 
ing from darkness and gloom. 

‘These papers will substantiate my claims to 
the land and free my name of the last shade of 
suspicion. With them I can look the world in the 
face and declare that I am a man about whose 
name clusters no mystery just because my father 
chose to appear extraordinary. My family history 
is here given, and not only is my father guiltless of 
any crime, but he is proven to be a man who has 
been the victim of his own exalted sense of honor 
and unbounded generosity.'^ 

“That sounds powerful fine, an' is mighty fine, 
I'm sure, Cap'n, but tell us 'bout it. Can't you 
trust us?" 

Frangois felt the gentle rebuke in the old man's 
voice and hastened to assure him that he and Bud 
held first places in his confidence. The novelty 
of the discovery had dazed him, and he meant to 
tell them everything. 

“Jist think of it!" Silas interrupted as Frangois 
proceeded to give him the gist of the story, “I 
always did say, old Paul could keep his own coun- 


640 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


sel an^ be that dum^ ’bout it that he’d shame a 
dum’ terrapin!” 

Frangois held up a manuscript: “This paper 
contains the details of my father’s life. You may 
read at your leisure. There is also mention of my 
mother, but her history is very simple. She was 
the only child of a roving hunter and trapper 
whom my father met and married in Shannon 
County, about the time he first came to the 
Ozarks, before settling here. Not only was she an 
only child but she left no relatives whatever. Her 
mother died while quite young and her father 
shortly after my father took her, his daughter, 
away as a bride. 

“But on the other hand my father’s life is full 
of interest. And Dade — his name was — Paul 
Grennard!” 

“Yer don’t say so?” Silas tugged fiercely at his 
beard, while his clean-shaven upper lip twitched 
with excitement. His eyes narrowed to mere slits. 

“And, does that mean, Cap’n that you’ve got to 
change yer name now?” Silas now looked puzzled. 

Frangois went on: 

“Paul Grennard, my father, according to this 
paper written by himself, was born in Paris. The 
Grennard family ranked as one of the wealthiest 
and most powerful in the reign of the Great Em- 


THE CLEARING OF THE WAY 541 


peror. Unfortunately my father, then a lad of 
seventeen, was one of several who, joined in a po- 
litical prank which afterwards developed into a 
plot of considerable proportions, and thereby en- 
dangered my grandfather^s credit with Napoleon. 
The irate Emperor went so far as to hint that he 
would confiscate the Grennard estates. This so 
frightened the family that my father was appealed 
to and persuaded to exile himself from France, 
promising solemnly never to return to his native 
land or even communicate with his parents. 

^With five thousand francs his father had given 
him, the young man came to St. Louis, and, by 
chance, met Donald Douglas's father who em- 
ployed him in a rich firm owned and controlled 
by him, the firm of D. Douglas & Co., the elder 
Douglas whom we know being then a lad two 
years or so younger than my father. These two 
became fast friends. 

^^By the end of five years, Paul Grennard had 
learned the English language and worked himself 
into a post of responsibility in the firm, a post next 
in importance to that held by Donald Douglas. 

‘The young men loved the same girl, Theresa 
Murton, who is now Mrs. Douglas. Her marriage 
was the first cause in changing my father's whole 


642 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


after life, turning him into a secretive, noncommit- 
tal, strange man. 

‘^Generously, however, he had stepped aside and 
let Donald marry Theresa, and he might have 
found peace in sacrifice, when shortly after his 
wedding, Donald Douglas confessed to Father that 
he had embezzled a large sum of the firm's money. 
Should his father, the elder Douglas, ever hear of 
it as he must some day, he would treat his son as 
a common criminal. In order to spare Theresa 
disgrace, Paul Grennard, because of his love for 
the young wife of his friend, assumed the hus- 
band's guilt. He persuaded and permitted young 
Douglas to manipulate the records that the re- 
sponsibility of the crime be shifted on to him. 
When all was ready, and a certain agreement en- 
tered into between the young couple and my fa- 
ther, in the dead of the night. Father came away 
to the Ozarks, leaving behind him on one hand, 
peace and security ; on the other, rage and accusa- 
tions of which he was the innocent target. Hence 
it was to conceal his identity that he appropriated 
his mother's family name. 

“This instrument," continued Frangois as he 
held up another paper, “is an agreement prepared 
by a lawyer and signed by Donald Douglas, There- 
sa Douglas, and Paul Grennard, in which the 


THE CLEARING OF THE WAY 543 


couple agree to transfer to my father or his heirs, 
two-thirds of all they might inherit or ever become 
possessed of, whenever the said Paul Grennard, or 
his heirs, shall demand it, provided it be after the 
death of D. Douglas of the firm of D. Douglas & 
Co. The consideration named is the rendering of 
a certain service by Paul Grennard to Donald 
Douglas. 

*'On the back of the paper the service is fully 
explained, just what IVe already said: the as- 
sumption of the guilt of Donald Douglas. The 
paper specifically provides that Paul Grennard 
does not obligate himself to repay said shortage 
or any part thereof. 

‘Tt is an unusual document, and probably would 
carry only a moral obligation to execute its pro- 
visions.” 

''But it is Mr. Douglas's indisputable acknowl- 
edgment of the crime — his crime,” said Bud grave- 
ly* 

"Yes, there is something in that. I could al- 
ways hold it over him in case — ” 

"That's it!” cried Dade. "It's a powerful club 
to force 'im to deed back yer Ian' to yer!” 

"And it looks as if he'll oblige me to use it 
against him. But that's all I'm going to do with 


544 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


it — use it to force him to the restoration of my 
rights.” 

**When will you act?” 

'There's no time like the present, Bud, and I 
propose to work fast — while the Syndicate is near 
at hand.” 

"That's got the right ring, Cap'n. Me an' Bud 
'll let on same as if we didn't know nuthin'. You 
can paddle your canoe better with jist yourself in 
it. Do like Paul, keep your own counsel, now 
you've unburdened to yer Men's, it oughter be 
easy 'nough, but shucks! — ^yer know what from 
tuther,” and Dade took out his "terbacky” plug 
and cut off a chew. 

Bud and Frangois gathered up the implements, 
and, the "treasure” safe in the Captain's hands, 
the three men walked back towards the village. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 


INTERVENTION. 

Now that Virginia's mind was at rest about 
Henry Ryan, her thoughts were more than ever 
occupied with Frangois. The pending lawsuit gave 
her concern despite her encouraging assurances as 
to the chances in his favor. It seemed to her that 
Frangois had received most unfair treatment at 
the hands of the Douglases. She firmly believed 
the deed obtained through fraud. According to 
her reasoning this was borne out by Theresa's 
pleading with Dan and her subsequent comments, 
before the reconciliation. Undoubtedly there was 
something irregular in the transaction, or how 
could such a thing have occurred to Theresa, even 
granting that the old lady was peculiar? Her 
wailings still rang in Virginia's ears. Why couldn't 
she and Flora testify at the trial that they wit- 
nessed the interview between mother and son in 
which Mrs. Douglas pleaded with Dan, while they 
and Frangois were sitting in the playhouse in the 
forest? 


545 


546 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


It might just prove that Theresa thought there 
was something wrong in the transaction since 
recent events showed that her scruples had van- 
ished. If she were as clever as her husband and 
her son she could invent a plausible story. 

Virginia had never until then permitted herself 
to interfere with her neighbors’ exercise of free- 
dom, nor was she one given to officiousness. But 
in this case her interest in Captain Francois’s law- 
suit, though she assured herself it was confined to 
a sincere desire to see him obtain justice, caused 
her to want to help him as far as it lay in her 
power. This was not because she doubted his 
ability to fight for himself, but because she knew 
there is often error in the decisions of courts. That 
was what she feared. If a private settlement 
could be accomplished, she argued with herself, it 
would be far more satisfactory than a decision of 
the court. In losing the lawsuit, Frangois would 
lose all. That should be prevented at any cost. 

In pondering over ways and means for correct- 
ing any weak point in the case, an idea occurred 
to Virginia. She acknowledged to herself that it 
was most certainly one the Captain would not use, 
but being a woman, she reasoned as such, and did 
not see any objection to it. She took into con- 
sideration that Theresa and Dan’s wife — if they 


INTERVENTION 


547 


could be made to believe that fraud had been re- 
sorted to in order to wrest Frangois^s property 
from him, they might prevail upon Donald Doug- 
las to restore the land. Women, she argued, as a 
rule are more scrupulous than men, they have 
a keener sense of justice and — honesty. If she 
could appeal to their fairness, a long step in the 
direction of compromise would have been taken. 
Again, if she failed, she would not complicate mat- 
ters, for the men would not pay much attention to 
women^s meddling. It was very trying to know 
what to do. But something must be done, and at 
once. Although she tried to dismiss the thought 
for a while she went about with the feeling that 
she would do something in spite of herself. 

Until then Virginia had had nothing in common 
with the two women. In both cases a sense of 
delicacy restrained her from making advances to 
them, besides, she had never felt particularly 
drawn to Theresa although she pitied her. Katie’s 
youthful face appealed to her much more. Ther- 
esa had always stood out in Virginia’s mind as 
someone apart from the two Douglases — and her- 
self. An uncomfortable feeling that she could not 
explain had kept her from discussing her with 
Dan. She had tried once, after the meeting in the 
woods with no good resulting therefrom. Since 


548 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


the breaking off of her engagement with Dan, she 
had nothing to say to him and therefore held no 
intercourse with the younger Mrs. Douglas. Just 
as she hit upon a course of action it flashed upon 
her that it would be absurd or even foolish for her 
to expect these women to plead with their hus- 
bands to give up the Captain's property. In the 
first place they would not believe her and would 
ask by what right she appealed to them. 

Nevertheless the girl's good sense recommended 
a compromise and how could it be reached? She 
owned that interference might be regarded as high- 
ly impudent in her and might subject her, in case of 
failure, to the ridicule of the Douglases, both of 
the men and the women, to say nothing of in- 
curring the Captain's displeasure. The latter pos- 
sibility caused her to wish to refrain. 

While the Captain was busy collecting his new 
weapons from the tree, Virginia, who knew noth- 
ing of his discoveries — she had not spoken to him 
since the day before at the burial, and then, ex- 
changed only a few remarks like many others 
present — was hurrying through a short-cut across 
the common when whom should she meet coming 
in the opposite direction, but Theresa and Katie. 

''Why, Virginia!" exclaimed the elder lady af- 
fably, "it's been, so to speak, an age since I saw 


INTERVENTION 


549 


you. You quite neglect me. Why donT you 
come to see me sometimes? There should not be 
anything between us.^^ 

^'And there is not, that I know,^^ said Virginia 
taking Theresa's hand. 

'T'm glad to hear you say it. Virgie, this is 
Dan's wife. I do not believe you two have ever 
met before. I have told her much of you, Vir- 
ginia." 

The two young women expressed themselves 
pleased to get acquainted, and Virginia made up 
her mind then and there that Katie had a lovable 
disposition. 

Theresa rattled on : 

“How well you look, Virgie. What are you 
doing this fall? — fancy work, knitting, or reading? 
I've been telling Katie that if you didn't come we 
soon must call on you." 

Virginia was at a loss for something to say. 
But that did not trouble Mrs. Douglas senior. She 
continued : 

“Why don’t you come along with us now and 
see our new house just across the common? You 
were heading that way. Come, you won't refuse 
an old friend. It's early yet. We'll have a chat 
about old times — when I was a boarder at the 


550 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Birsches. You neednT mind Katie, she knows all 
about me.” 

The younger woman did not have a chance to 
put in a word. Virginia answered falteringly: 

too, have been wanting to see you, for some 
time. If you insist. I’ll accompany you.” Then 
an inner force impelled her to add: “I’d like to 
talk over an important matter with you.” 

Theresa glanced at the girl quickly, trying to 
divine what the important matter could be — she 
never associated it for an instant with Captain 
Frangois’s affairs. However, the “important mat- 
ter” judging from Virginia’s agitation must be out 
of the ordinary. Theresa’s cunning put her on 
guard. 

“Very well,” she added not less cordially but 
with a vague note of suspicion, “Katie and I shall 
be delighted.” 

In the short walk required to bring them to the 
pretty residence of the Douglases, Katie got ahead 
with Virginia and managed to say enough to win 
Virginia’s sympathy and confidence. Without re- 
gretting the step, now she had the opportunity at 
hand, the Captain’s friend and champion, felt a 
little trepidation at launching her subject. She 
postponed the opening attack, waiting that some- 
thing might lead up to what was on her mind. 


INTERVENTION 


551 


Meanwhile, she chatted gaily without apparent 
effort, and Theresa, watching her, was completely 
thrown off guard. 

Once within the house, several minutes were 
consumed by Katie who showed Virginia some 
embroidery and other work she had busied her- 
self with during the fall. There was something so 
innocently sweet about Dan's wife that Katie was 
attracted by a natural fascination. A rapid flow 
of congenial women's talk enlivened the visit and 
gradually broke the crust for Virginia to say what 
she felt she must when the moment seemed op- 
portune. 

“You were saying," began Theresa, “that you 
want to tell us something. Now that the pretty 
things are out of the way, we are ready to listen. 
Is it something about the new church? I think 
you are interested in Father Duncan's getting the 
necessary funds, are you not?" 

“Yes, I am, but that is not the point. I have 
indeed something of importance to talk over with 
you. I've been intending to come — for some 
time, really." 

She stopped short. Again she doubted whether 
it would be wise to speak in the presence of Katie. 
Perhaps it would be sufficient to mention the 
matter to Theresa. 


552 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Donald’s wife, not comprehending what was 
going on in Virginia’s mind, but seeing her look 
at Dan’s wife, put an end to any plea of evasion 
by saying: 

^^You must consider my daughter as one of us, 
for we do everything together. Whatever you 
have to tell can be just as safely entrusted to her 
as to me.” 

By this time Theresa realized that Virginia 
must be bound on a serious mission of some kind 
judging from her looks, and as if breathed in from 
the air, a subdued, attentive aspect settled upon 
all three at the same time. 

Virginia hesitated so long that her listeners be- 
came restless under the strain of suspense. Fin- 
ally she ventured upon the subject in measured, 
broken phrases. 

'Tt may be that you — will misunderstand me, 
that is my daring to mix up with your affairs. It 
is probable you will think it presumption on my 
part to broach such a proposal to you, but if I 
can only make you see my motive is not a selfish 
one, that I’m considering you in this matter as 
well as Captain Frangois, I’m sure you will par- 
don me. 

'Wou see I do not censure you in the least. It 


INTERVENTION 


553 


is only a question of fairness, only before I say 
more I should — 

She hesitated again, seemed to be waiting for 
encouragement to continue. Although Theresa^s 
heart was fluttering she managed to say: 

^Tlease tell us, I have known you these many 
years and am sure you would never say anything, 
much less do anything I would censure. What- 
ever it is you have to say we are ready to listen 
to you with free minds.’^ 

Did the old lady really mean it, or was it curi- 
osity that was urging her? Her words sounded all 
right but her tone suggested defiance. Virginia 
threw caution to the winds and proceeded fear- 
lessly: 

‘^Mrs. Douglas, I want to speak to you of the 
pending lawsuit. Only before I do I wish to 
assure you that I^m doing so on my own responsi- 
bility.’^ 

“You’re making that quite plain. May I ask 
you what lawsuit you have in mind?” 

Virginia replied impatiently, almost angrily ; the 
old spirit of the backwoods urging her: 

“There is only one lawsuit at present that is of 
any interest to the people in Bonne Terre: Cap- 
tain Erangois’s lawsuit.” 


554 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Katie made a motion to rise, Theresa held her 
back. 

“Well?^^ she asked. 

‘‘Mrs. Douglas, we old residents of Bonne Terre 
have always known that the mining lands, the 
subject of the suit, belonged to Jean Frangois. 
Now it turns out that Mr. Douglas holds a war- 
ranty deed to that land when the Captain and 
others are certain that the land was simply leased 
for twenty-five years. The consideration for the 
lease was one thousand dollars and a certain royal- 
ty. For years that royalty was paid. IVe seen 
the vouchers.” 

“Well?” This was said very calmly. 

Virginia turned her eyes full on the questioner. 

“It is no use getting so excited,” said Theresa, 
“If you will allow me to explain — ” 

“Mrs. Douglas, your husband has filed a war- 
ranty deed in Farmington instead of the lease. 
How was that done?” 

“Virginia, as IVe said, if you'd allow me to ex- 
plain I can do so to your satisfaction if not to 
Captain Frangois's. 

“I thought like you, I did not know Donald 
had purchased the land — until I went to New 
York. I understood until then, — but you see I 
had never discussed it with my husband, — that it 


INTERVENTION 


555 


was a lease. I suppose I got my information from 
the Birsches, Flora Birsch, who like you is a 
staunch friend of Captain Frangois's. You are 
misled just as I was. Do you know that I went 
to New York principally for that reason — to satis- 
fy myself about the lease? I am frank, I went 
there for the purpose of circumventing my hus- 
band and my son. You may have heard what 
happened. After my reconciliation — I^d been 
working on mere supposition — I mentioned the 
matter to Mr. Douglas and Dan and they showed 
me the deed. What other proof could I require? 
Captain Frangois’s signature was affixed to it.” 

Virginia felt the hopelessness of the situation. 
She could hear the Court rendering its decision. 
She felt she must make another attempt and 
strove to be calm. 

‘‘But Mrs. Douglas, did they tell you under 
what circumstances the deed was obtained?” 

“No. What difference could that make?” 

“Do you think one thousand dollars an ade- 
quate sum in payment for six hundred acres of 
mineralized land — known to be such at the time?” 

“It was a small sum, but that was several years 
ago.” 

Virginia could scarcely refrain from reminding 
Mrs. Douglas of a certain meeting in the woods 


556 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


and her appeal for the very man she now seemed 
so indifferent about, but one look at Katie de- 
terred her. She would try again. 

“Mrs. Douglas, I know the history of the sign- 
ing of that deed. You and your daughter-in-law 
can take it as the exact truth. It will probably 
be related in court and it is to avoid that, I came 
to you, that is, I was thinking of coming — 

Katie looked frightened, Theresa placed a re- 
assuring hand on her shoulder and turned to Vir- 
ginia with a look of dignity which made the latter 
wonder. 

“We shall both listen to you, but I warn you 
that if you are mistaken, as I know you are, you 
shall listen to me.^^ 

Virginia proceeded : 

“Just before the execution of the deed in dis- 
pute, a mining lease had been discussed, and, ac- 
cording to Captain Frangois^s account, on arriving 
at an agreement, he received a note from Mr. 
Douglas and Dan requesting him to meet them 
at Dade's Inn on a certain night to sign the con- 
tract. The note is still in his possession. I've seen 
it. Well, on arriving at the Inn, plenty of whiskey 
was served and all, except Dan, became intox- 
icated." 

“Who was to blame for that? If the Captain 


INTERVENTION 


557 


had no better sense, I'm sure it's no fault of my 
husband's. My son, at least, remembered he was 
a gentleman.” 

That piqued Virginia more than any previous 
comment. For the while she forgot Katie's pre- 
sence. 

^^Mrs. Douglas, your son chose to remain sober 
because he was managing the proceedings, seeing 
that when the proper stage of inebriety had been 
reached the papers to be signed should be so 
mixed, that the Captain signed a deed instead of 
the lease which was read out aloud and to which 
he was sworn. You'll say why didn't the Captain 
examine the papers. That's where he made his 
mistake, he never suspected he had to deal with — ” 

“Virginia!” almost shrieked Theresa. She had 
risen and her face, already pale, was like marble. 
She pressed a hand across her bosom. 

The girl did not finish. Katie sprang up and 
began to cry. 

“I'm sorry, so sorry, poor dear!” said Virginia 
contritely, “you two can't help it, but it's the 
truth!” 

Mrs. Douglas looked appealingly at her visitor. 
In the last minute she seemed to have aged ten 
years. Her former dignity mingled with spright- 
liness had left her. 


558 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

''Yes, Mrs. Douglas, it is the truth. Now the 
reason I'm speaking thus to you and Dan's wife, is 
because I think you can help. I'm pleading with 
you two ladies, to use your influence to induce Mr. 
Douglas to restore to Captain Frangois his land 
and thereby end the suit." 

Katie looked up. 

"Mannna Theresa," she cried, "I think she is 
right. There is something I'd like to tell you, 
something I should have told you long ago, but 
Dan forbade me : I owe my happiness to Captain 
Frangois!" 

Then she rocked to and fro : 

"But, oh! how can I side against my husband! 
Do not ask me any questions for I must not answer 
them!" 

Astonishment kept Virginia and Theresa silent. 

"Still, Captain Frangois must get justice — if it 
is as you say it is." 

"Hush, Katie!" It was Theresa who spoke. 

At that moment the opening of the front gate 
had attracted her attention. Through the small 
door they saw Donald Douglas enter, and also saw 
Captain Frangois coming through the common, 
about thirty yards behind the old man, but evi- 
dently unobserved by him. 


INTERVENTION 


559 


“Oh! he's coming here!" cried Virginia, “he 
must not see me!" 

“Quick, then, in here!" directed Theresa. 

All three scampered into an adjoining room, 
darkened by closed blinds, but before they had 
time to shut the door between it and the reception 
room, Mr. Douglas entered. 

He had not more than removed his hat and 
taken a few steps forward, when Captain Frangois 
knocked sharply at the door facing the room to 
which the ladies had escaped. 

“Hello, there!" cried Mr. Douglas, taken by sur- 
prise. 

“Yes, Mr. Douglas, it is I. Will you allow me a 
few minutes interview?" 

“Why not? I have never refused to speak with 
you." 

“I know it, and having something very impor- 
tant to say, something I think it best for you to 
hear alone, I have come to talk with you — as a 
gentleman." 

Virginia made a movement to leave the room, 
but Theresa checked her. The next minute it was 
too late. 

Douglas had hesitated a moment, and Virginia 
could see he was confused. In his surprise he held 
the door ajar, keeping his hand on the door-knob. 


560 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


His words had been more inviting than his ac- 
tions. 

‘^Come in/^ he finally said motioning his caller 
inside. 

“Shall we be quite alone?'' 

“Yes; my wife and daughter went beyond the 
valley. They won't be back for an hour or more." 

Theresa, Katie and Virginia were huddled to- 
gether in the farthest corner of the darkened room, 
but they could see the two men plainly through a 
lace portiere in the reception room, the men being 
in the light. In fact, when Frangois took a seat 
opposite Mr. Douglas’s the women could see plain- 
ly both parties and hear every word that was said. 

Virginia was hot and cold by turns. She did 
not want to listen but then neither did she want 
Frangois and Mr. Douglas to see her leave. As 
for Theresa she could not make her out, the old 
lady had regained for the time being her complete 
self-control and was the least disturbed of the 
three. 

“We must know what is going on, that we might 
help," she whispered to Virginia when the latter 
spoke in her ear asking if there was any way of 
escaping unobserved. 

The men lost no time. Frangois began: 


INTERVENTION 


561 


‘^Mr, Douglas, IVe come to you to give you an 
opportunity of proposing a settlement.” 

“That sounds good. I^m glad youVe come to 
your senses. You see, my dear Captain, your 
memory — ” 

“I think you mistake the manner of man I am. 
When you have read these papers, I believe you 
will view everything in a different light.” 

“I do not wish to be discourteous. Captain, but 
you have no papers in which I could possibly be 
interested. The only paper of importance in the 
suit is on record or file at Farmington. I have a 
copy in the hands of my lawyer in New York.” 

“I have papers,” the Captain spoke in measured 
tones, “which concern both you and me. Only 
an hour ago, I recovered them from an iron box 
concealed in an oak tree.” 

“What are you talking about? I^m a busy man, 
Captain, and have no time for such — such — ” 

Frangois paid no attention but kept on : 

“You cannot have escaped hearing that my 
father was a most extraordinary man, not to say 
eccentric.” 

“Yes, IVe heard he was most peculiar. There 
were even rumors about him that were not exactly 
of a nature to — ” 


562 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

‘^Beware, Mr. Douglas, how you speak of my 
father!^' 

Theresa turned deathly pale and clutched Vir- 
ginia's arm. 

^^Before you express yourself about his eccen- 
tricity I should like to ask you if you remember 
one Paul Grennard?" 

“What if I do?” almost shouted Donald Doug- 
las as he arose from his seat in great agitation. 

“Be seated, Mr. Douglas. Well, what I would 
say is that Paul Grennard and Paul FranQois are 
the same. The first night of your arrival in Bonne 
Terre, you told me I reminded you of — Paul 
Grennard. Have you forgotten that?” 

Douglas stared at Francois like a man who has 
become suddenly paralyzed. 

‘Tou think these papers will interest you, do 
you not?” 

Theresa had known all the time who Jean 
really was, and before her reconciliation to her 
husband she thought he must know also. But the 
fact that Jean was ignorant of it — she had soon 
discovered that — had lulled her into a feeling of 
security. Now, she was about to sink on the floor, 
but Virginia supported her, so she stood rigid 
against the young woman, eager not to lose a word. 

“You have not answered me, Mr. Douglas.” 


INTERVENTION 


563 


“Yes! yes!’^ shouted the old man attempting to 
rise, but he fell back in his seat gazing straight be- 
fore him. 

“This paper,’ ^ continued Frangois, in the same 
even tone he had started with, “you will recognize 
as having been signed by you and Theresa, your 
wife. It constitutes a general, sweeping covenant 
respecting the transfer of your property in consid- 
eration of — ” 

“Let me see that paper!” said Douglas, trying 
to regain mastery of the situation. His shrewd- 
ness was urging him to control himself. 

“No, sir, that paper does not go out of my 
possession until I have attended to some matters 
of importance. 

“In consideration of — ” 

“Hush! hush!” cried Douglas hoarsely. “It is 
unnecessary for you to state it. I know. The 
consideration was — ” 

“Mr. Douglas, do you realize that the considera- 
tion my father paid for was done in units more 
valuable than diamonds?” 

“I — I suppose so.” 

‘TTou suppose so?” 

“I mean I acknowledge it.” 

“This paper will prove it to you if you never 
realized it before. Read this.” 


564 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


Donald Douglas took the paper thrust into his 
hands. He would have refused to read it if the 
Captain^s determination had not forced him to 
peruse it, trembling all the while like a condemned 
man. Indeed, he was convicted under his own 
signature, — the same weapon he had thought to 
force Frangois to acknowledge the deed — and the 
irate son of the man he had wronged probably 
meant to pronounce and execute the sentence 
against him. 

^Tt is all true — yes, the part that refers to my 
past.” 

Then having confessed, he tried to palliate his 
guilt. 

“It is all true, but that was more than thirty 
years ago. Since that day IVe hved as an up- 
right man and sought to be fair to all.” 

“Ah! Mr. Douglas, you forget your latest of- 
fence. Because I^m not able to deny my signature 
you mean to enforce the deed. You and your son 
took advantage of me, under the influence of 
drink, a result of your planning, to make me sign 
a document that no man in his sense would have 
put his name to. And yet, my father bore the 
consequences of your crime!” 

Douglas fidgeted in his chair. 


INTERVENTION 


565 


'Tt was Dan. I did not know you to be Gren- 
nard's son.” 

have my doubts about that. However that 
is not the point. You acknowledge your guilt?” 

^^Yes,” came from the old man as his head sank 
lower and lower in shame. 

‘^Mr. Douglas, your age protects you. Where 
is your son?” 

'Tn St. Louis. What do you want with him? 
He has nothing to do with my past.” He spoke 
with difficulty. 

^‘We shall not require him. In fact, I'm glad 
for his sake and yours, and his mother’s and wife’s 
as well, that he is away. The wrong was commit- 
ted in your name. I hope you are prepared to 
sign papers.” 

'^No; that is, not in my son’s name.” 

'^Mr. Douglas, you will gain nothing by trying 
to dilly-dally in this matter. You will only wear 
out my patience.” 

^Tlease, Captain, if I do, will you remain silent 
about this — unfortunate affair?” 

make no promises, although I feel sorry for 
young Mrs. Douglas. She, at least, does not merit 
this disgrace.” 

Captain Francois arose and paced the room for 


566 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


a few minutes. The old man's eyes were fastened 
on his every movement. 

The Captain stopped short in front of him: 

‘^At two o'clock, Mr. Douglas, I shall return 
with certain papers, will you and Mrs. Douglas be 
present to sign?" 

“Yes," came hoarsely from the old man's lips. 

The Captain left the house. 

Five minutes later, Virginia tore herself away 
from the two weeping women whose sobs had 
finally attracted Donald Douglas's attention. He 
was too crushed to ask questions, but with red 
spots on his cheeks he watched Miss Bardsdell pass 
through the reception room and let herself out the 
front door. 


CHAPTER XL. 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE. 

Promptly at two o^clock, Captain Jean Gren- 
nard and Samuel Johnson, the local justice of the 
peace, entered the Douglas home. A deathlike 
silence prevailed over the place. A gray-haired 
man and his mate sat at a little table in the atti- 
tude of expecting callers. The door having been 
left open, there was no occasion for them to ad- 
vance and ask the men to enter; however, they 
arose, pale and humble, showing that the heavy 
blow of delayed justice had crushed them. 

Not a word was spoken. Donald Douglas mo- 
tioned the men to seats. They, with hats re- 
moved, bowed and drew near the table, but re- 
mained standing, — their manner indicating that 
business was uppermost with them. 

Johnson drew a paper from his coat pocket. 

^^Be seated, Mr. and Mrs. Douglas, and I shall 
read this to you. It is a warranty deed from you 
to Jean Grennard, conveying to him certain lands 
described.” 


568 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


He read the deed in a rapid monotone. Spread- 
ing it out on the table, he dipped the quill pen in 
the bottle of ink and handed it to Donald Doug- 
las: 

^^Sign here. Mrs. Douglas will sign under your 
name.’^ 

With a trembling hand Donald signed and 
passed the pen to his wife who quietly affixed her 
full name to the paper. The Justice took their 
acknowledgement with due solemnity, and the 
Captain tendered the ^^one dollar’^ consideration 
in conformity with the law. The silver coin lay 
on the table, untouched. 

Jean Grennard received from the Justice’s hands 
the instrument of transfer. Then, he turned to 
Donald Douglas and bowed in acknowledgement. 

^'Now, this,” said Frangois, drawing another pa- 
per from an inner pocket and addressing the 
couple for the first time, ‘fis a release from me to 
both of you from the provisions of the agreement 
you executed many years ago to my father, Paul 
Grennard. I want only my property. I deliver 
this instrument to you in the presence of Mr. 
Johnson.” 

Douglas took the paper mechanically, and wait- 
ed to do whatever else might be required of him. 

^^Mr. Douglas,” Jean held a third pap>er in his 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 539 


hand, “I believe Dan has transferred to you his 
rights in the Syndicate/' 

‘^He has." 

“Then you and Mrs. Douglas will please sign a 
transfer to me. Here it is ready, I shall ask Mr. 
Johnson to make you acquainted with the import 
of its contents." 

The document was read in the same perfunctory 
manner as the first, husband and wife signing it 
without demurring. 

“Thank you. You are only doing your duty and 
I am doing mine, but you shall not find me un- 
grateful. Mr. Douglas, you and your son have done 
much in promoting the mines and consummat- 
ing an agreement with the Syndicate. In con- 
sideration thereof, I shall protect you both for a 
one quarter interest which you may divide be- 
tween yourselves as you may desire." 

“We want nothing," answered Douglas in a fal- 
tering voice. 

“Nevertheless, you shall have it. I mean to be 
fair to you. I shall not carry your punishment 
so far as to deprive you of what I believe to be 
your due. At the proper time I shall sign a docu- 
ment to that effect. For the present, I must be 
free to treat with the men who have invested 
thousands of dollars in my property." 


570 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


“Mrs. Douglas and I thank you.'^ 

“To-morrow these documents will be recorded, 
and my lawyer will file a motion dismissing the 
suit which is now pending against you.” 

Captain Grennard and Mr. Johnston took their 
leave in a strictly formal manner. In closing the 
gate there was some trouble with the lock and 
Jean, in trying to discover the trouble, accidently 
glanced in the direction of the house: the front 
door had been left open and he could see Douglas 
and his wife still sitting at the table, with heads 
bowed, and Katie standing back of them — a sor- 
rowful spectator. 

From the Douglas home the Captain hastened 
to the Inn to keep an appointment with the Syn- 
dicate. Not a second had he lost — before going 
to the Douglases he had called the members to- 
gether. Upon arriving at the Inn, he found Hen- 
ry Ryan, Sam Bolivar, the older men from New 
York, and Adolf Birsch waiting for him in Dade^s 
relic room, the same in which the Captain, some 
ten years before, had signed away his property 
for the paltry sum of one thousand dollars — under 
false representation. In the meantime his exper- 
iences had been varied, and the present Jean 
Grennard had learned much at the crack of the 
lash of adversity; as he now confronted the Syndi- 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 571 


cate which represented one of the wealthiest 
groups in New York, he was a man thoroughly 
capable, masterful, able to cope with the complica- 
tions of the situation as it stood. While these 
men did not deem him their superior, they ad- 
mitted he could control local following for or 
against them, and Birsch had assured them he 
could manage an army of rough miners, getting 
more work out of them than any other man in the 
company's employ. That he knew practical min- 
ing they had also learned from Garland, their en- 
gineer. 

But that he also had the brains and education 
to direct the business of a large and successful con- 
cern they had as yet no idea of. The most they 
dared hope from his summons was the perspective 
of a compromise with the Douglases. Donald 
Douglases absence from the meeting puzzled and 
nettled the pessimists who still held that they 
would lose out on the investment. 

On the other hand those who looked on the 
bright side of the enterprise preferred to deal di- 
rectly and exclusively with Frangois. Several had 
spoken with him, meeting him as they did at the 
Inn, and they agreed that while he was rather 
modest, he was upholding his rights with a de- 
termination that commanded their respect. They 


572 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


wanted his lands and proposed to get Frangois’s 
co-operation. 

The absolute confidence with which he addressed 
the meeting held the attention of both sides. 

“Gentlemen, I have called you together to in- 
form you that you may proceed with the develop- 
ment of the mines. It must have been very try- 
ing and discouraging to postpone the work for 
several weeks as you have done, pending a dis- 
agreeable lawsuit. Your agreement with the old 
company known as the “La Grave’^ Company, ex- 
pires in a month^s time. It is important that you 
prove or disprove the theory that lead ore exists 
in a disseminated stratum within your allotted 
period of time.’^ 

Jean Grennard, but to the members Jean Fran- 
Qois, addressed them as if expecting compliance 
with his proposals. Several of the older men re- 
adjusted their glasses and surveyed the Captain. 
Ryan nudged Bolivar and whispered: “He^s the 
man we want.” 

“You would have us understand, do you not, 
that all complications over titles are settled?” in- 
quired a banker at the right of Henry Ryan who 
had heard the latter^s remark. He asked the ques- 
tion which he knew was on the mind of his associ- 
ates. His tone and manner indicated that he 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 573 


hoped the answer favorable and that Frangois was 
the owner. 

'T am the owner and Master of Bonne Terre.” 

*‘The particulars,” demanded the same banker, 
with the same keenly interested look of one who 
tests the fineness of a gold coin before accepting 
it in payment. 

“Here is a warranty deed from Donald Douglas 
and his wife, Theresa Douglas, to Jean Grennard, 
the legal name of one Jean Frangois. This paper 
is a transfer to me, from the same parties, and it 
vests me with all their rights in the Syndicate. I 
appear to you now as absolute, indefeasible owner 
of the land, comprising six hundred acres claimed 
by Mr. Douglas, and I address you, as a member 
of your Syndicate, to execute existing agree- 
ments.” 

“Ah! that is most gratifying!” exclaimed the 
solid, implacable Birsch. 

“It is indeed a pity that we did not have you 
to deal with all along,” said Henry Ryan. “What 
are your plans?” 

The Captain, after acknowledging the compli- 
ment, held to the business part of the meeting. 

“That is for you to suggest,” he replied modest- 

ly- 

“Well, not only has the lawsuit stopped us, and 


574 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


labor become demoralized, but there actually ex- 
ists some doubt as to our success after we sink the 
shaft to the hundred fifty foot level. What is 
your opinion 

“Let us review the situation, Gentlemen. I un- 
derstand 'that you have invested heavily in both 
the projects, represented by the two old com- 
panies: La Grave and Des Loges. It is right that 
you should have the chance of gathering in the 
harvest. But the time is short. Before the end 
of this year, 1869, you will have won or forfeited 
the mine. My suggestion is to resume the devel- 
opment work to-morrow. However, if you hesi- 
tate or wish to retire, I undertake to bind myself 
this afternoon to return your money with ten per 
cent, interest within a fortnight. WTiat will you 
dor 

The question was put with force and it fell on 
the assembly like a thunder clap. 

Ryan was on his feet at once. 

“I move we accept the gentleman’s offer!” 

“Nonsense! nonsense!” shouted Charles B. Par- 
sons springing up in time to press Ryan back into 
his seat, “Everyone of you know I have almost 
perfected the organization of a company to take 
over the Syndicate’s contract.” 

He turned to Jean Grennard: 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 575 


shall carry out the agreement, Captain, 
and I may enlighten you by advising you of the 
fact that last week there was landed at Ste. Gene- 
vieve’s the first diamond drill ever intended for 
prospecting in this country. We thought of test- 
ing its usefulness on this property.” 

Parsons seconded by Ryan, who made a quick 
shift in positions, settled the question. 

A temporary memorandum was drawn up in 
confirmation of the old agreement, also extending 
the option until Jan. 1st, 1870, to allow for loss of 
time on account of the dispute over titles and en- 
able the work to be completed. 

On the same day. Bud Dade, mounted on his 
father’s old black mare, rode about the settlement 
and notified the men to report for work and back 
pay, at seven o’clock the next morning. Five 
double teams of mules, with wagons and men, 
were dispatched at once to Ste. Genevieve’s to 
bring in the new diamond drill and equipment. 

In a few days the drill was set up near the shaft, 
and its upright, portable engine chugged away 
from that time on, spinning the round tube, with 
its bits of black diamonds on the bottom cutting 
a circular core about an inch in diameter. Now 
and then the pipe was hauled up and the rock core 
taken out and examined. 


576 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


The use of this novel drill aroused the curiosity 
of the people for miles; many came from the 
countryside and Potosi, Pilot Knob, Ste. Gene- 
vieve, De Soto, and St. Louis, even from Chicago 
and New York — to see the steam-moved augur 
bore into the solid rock bed of the earth. Bud 
Dade who had charge of the engine and drill, while 
Parsons and Frangois directed the sinking of the 
shaft, had great difficulty in keeping the crowds 
back from the engine. He was handicapped in his 
work answering time and again different ones who 
wanted to know why a stream of water kept pour- 
ing down the drill tube, or pipe, and many other 
things suggested by the strange machine. Final- 
ly, he roped off the engine and called for a patrol. 

Bonne Terre was overrun with strangers. Dade’s 
Inn accommodated many and the villagers made 
money by taking in boarders at double rates. Last, 
but not least, among the institutions that pros- 
pered during the feverish excitement was Silas’s 
General Store. 

^^Whoopee!” he would shout at the sight of the 
Captain, ^‘Yer haint the only one ‘struck it rich!’ 
Let ’er go, Gallagher! By Jinks we’ve got the bull 
by the tail an’ at a down-hill fling!” 

Bud reported to a meeting of the S 5 aidicate, 
presided over, as usual since the reorganization of 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 577 


the forces, by Captain Jean Grennard. He de- 
clared that the core taken from the drill at one 
hundred ten foot level showed flecks of lead mixed 
with the rock. 

“What’s your opinion?” asked Parsons and 
Ryan with one voice. 

“That the bed of ore at that point will be 
reached somewhere between one hundred twenty- 
five to one hundred fifty foot depth. Up where 
you talked of putting the machine, it would have 
been two hundred fifty feet . That’s why the Cap- 
tain and I insisted on the lower area. We know.” 

“You speak with the accustomed certainty of 
an experienced prospector,” said Ryan. 

“One can afford to be positive when he knows.” 

The Captain drummed on the table. He wished 
to remind Bud of discretion. 

“The Captain doesn’t seem to see any joke in 
it,” put in Bolivar. 

A gleam shot through the Captain’s eyes and it 
arrested Wyman Jones’s attention. 

“You look. Captain, as if you and Mr. Dade are 
acquainted with the secrets of the earth. Have 
you been crawling about its beds of ore?” He 
spoke at random, and did not expect any other but 
perhaps a laughing reply or jest from Bolivar who 
was ever ready to make fun. But the Captain’s 


678 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 

features retained their calm, sphinxlike expres- 
sion. 

'Tou are stating a fact as far as this particular 
bed of ore is concerned, Mr. Wyman, and we are 
prepared to certify to our explorations.” 

‘Tn that case,” suggested Parsons, ‘Ve needn't 
wait but may proceed at once with our organiza- 
tion. Things are so certain.” 

^Tou may, in all security,” said the Captain 
with the same imperturable calmness. ^^Select the 
name.” 

‘TVe done that. The name of the corporation 
formed is The St. Joseph Lead Company!' ” 

^‘Good! and let us hope that the organization 
will add to the mines already known to the world, 
one of the largest and richest.” 

Although in those days the Master of Bonne 
Terre was seen most of the time with Messrs. Ry- 
an, Parsons, Jones, Bolivar, Birsch, and other 
members of the Syndicate — more frequently with 
the three first named — he found quiet hours, ever 
and anon, to devote to the one woman who had 
ever fully entered his life. 

The lane Jean Grennard had traveled since his 
fifteenth birthday had been a long one, but as cer- 
tainly as every rivulet finds its way to the sea, 
every road, whether dark or bright, rough or 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 579 


smooth, either comes to an end or has a turning. 
For many years now, his love for a woman had 
lighted the way, and though he had never spoken, 
her friendship and devotion had helped him on- 
ward, while his undimmed faith in God kept hope 
alive. From his point of vantage in the old oak 
tree, Jean was not long in descrying the turning 
point in his life. There, a new panorama spread 
before his wondering gaze, and he hastened 
towards the goal about which the new scenes un- 
folded. He need no longer fear to take unto him- 
self the gentle companion of his dreams. 

Occasionally, Bud and he walked to the street 
corner where they separated to visit different 
houses. Jean, at times, complained to his life- 
long friend that he was being neglected by him, 
but Bud gave some excuse or other, not wishing 
the Captain to misconstrue his true motive which 
was that the prominent place his friend filled in 
the great Syndicate isolated and distinguished him 
to the point where Bud and even Dade hesitated 
to show him any familiarity before strangers. Al- 
though Jean would indeed have been wounded by 
the suggestion, his good common sense soon made 
him see the justice of it. He felt sorry for his old 
backwoods friend and his son and determined that 
Bud would yet earn distinotioa and fill a ki^ po- 


580 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


sition in the company. For the present he de- 
cided to show them his accustomed cordial manner 
and ignore the restraint they plainly showed in his 
presence. A gem whether set in wood, iron, or 
gold has the same intrinsic value that can not be 
changed— the setting may. 

Virginia was proud of her lover, for such she felt 
Francois to be, although he had not yet spoken 
on the subject so near their lips that it radiated 
in every glance they exchanged. She was too 
human not to rejoice at what the future held so 
certainly in store for her, too human not to feel 
deliciously thrilled when she saw the broad, heav- 
ily-knit frame of the tall handsome man who was 
the whole world to her, stop at her gate and lift the 
latch, his clean-shaven face aglow with eager hap- 
piness. If, by chance, she saw a pair of feminine 
eyes gaze after him with interest, or again watch 
him from behind half -parted curtains, a rich color 
would mount her cheeks and her heart swelled 
with pardonable pride. As a sensible, warm- 
blooded woman she was entitled to expect every- 
body to look twice at the Captain, — and the town 
was now full of many who were willing to do it. 
She was also excusable for admitting to herself 
that she was to be envied. 

Still, while she had a perfect ri^t to feel as die 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 581 


did, since Jean had not openly spoken of his love 
by what process of reasoning did Virginia feel just- 
ified in giving free rein to her feelings? Could 
she not have been mistaken and taken too opti- 
mistic a view of his renewed attentions? There 
were times when he was just as eager to be in her 
company, when evening after evening found him 
at her home. Ah ! a woman^s intuition is never at 
fault in such cases ! It told her that at any min- 
ute she could expect to be told in warm, unmis- 
takable language of the love of years. Did she 
ever need to be told when spring was at hand? 
There were pleasant springlike days in winter but 
was there not a subtle distinction between the 
two? Had she opened her window, blindfolded, 
though the temperature were the same, could she 
not have told when the grass must be soft under- 
foot, when the flowers fragranced the air, and that 
the rustle she heard among the boughs of the trees 
was caused, not by the wind, but by the nesting 
birds, though for some reason or other they were 
silent at the time? She knew. 

At last one Saturday morning, the diamond 
augur bored straight into the body of lead ore. 
The news spread like wild-fire and caused great 
excitement. The great mine was found! In fact, 
the same which the Indians, kmg since dispersed, 


582 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


had known of for ages, and which one of the tribes, 
the Chickasaws, had guarded against the White 
Man, going so far as to destroy the settlement at 
mine La Motte to prevent its discovery! 

The local brass band, something quite recent, 
marched through the streets that same afternoon, 
playing lustily and electrifying the villagers; and 
an open carriage, another innovation in the line of 
conveyances, containing Grennard, Parsons, Jones, 
and Ryan drove along near the head of a proces- 
sion, extemporary streamers fluttering from the 
horses sides. On the streamers were painted: 

''Success to the St. Joseph Lead Company!’' 

That was the Company’s first appearance in 
public. A half holiday was declared, and the vil- 
lage on the three hills was gay with rejoicing. 

Near the setting of the sun when throats were 
sore from shouting, and the capitalists gathered 
at the Inn to smoke and converse on the great day 
that marked the beginning of a new era for the 
village and country about, someone asked for the 
Captain. Nobody had seen him. Bud passed a 
few minutes after and Ryan shouted to him : 

"If you come across Captain Grennard, tell him 
we’d like him to spend the evening with us.” 

"All right,” replied Bud, but he hastened hia 
pace for fear he mi#it be detained. 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 583 


A little further he saw too familiar figures fol- 
lowing the trail that led to the brow of Blue Hill. 
He paused for one second then he smiled and 
quickly turned up the road that led to the Birsches 
home. 

The Captain and Virginia were taking one of 
their old-time strolls. Somehow their easy man- 
ner suggested less strenuous days and all along 
their path they were reminded of evidences of 
comfort. They stopped and watched the splash 
of the sunlight against window panes in the vil- 
lage. The engine that had driven the drill straight 
through the stone helmet that covered the bed 
of ore was motionless and its wheezing silent. The 
weather being pleasant, many of the inhabitants 
squatted on their doorsteps, and a lull of peace- 
fulness, broken only by the rumbling of a few farm 
wagons in the distance, rested over the scene. 

Up there with the lovers, the world was spread 
before their animated vision, beautiful and glori- 
ous. Virginia never till then dreamed that an 
hour so charged with the pulsations of love's en- 
chantment could come to any mortal. Yet they 
were just walking and talking. The Captain had 
read a letter from old Basil, in which he stated 
that there was a good deal of advertisement going 
on in the papers for one Paul Grennard, or his 


584 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


heirs, who had fallen heirs to a pretty chateau 
near Paris. Basil's people in France, had known 
the Grennards and knew the avocats who had 
charge of their estate. The last that was heard 
of Paul Grennard, he had left for St. Louis. Would 
Jean, his old friend asked as a favor, advertise in 
the Missourian papers, or make inquiries in St. 
Louis? They both laughed softly while Virginia, 
in default of other flowers, plucked negroheads and 
grasses and made them into a bouquet. Soon, 
they were talking freely of other visits to the hill 
top. There was nothing unusual about their in- 
tercourse, nevertheless they thrilled with delight. 
Suddenly, in some inexplicable manner Virginia's 
bunch of flowers came loose and dropped to the 
ground. They both stooped to pick them up and 
as they bunched them up once more their hands 
came in contact. Frangois grasped Virginia's soft 
palms and pressed them to his face. Where the 
flowers fell once more to the earth there they lay 
forgotten. 

In her surprise Virginia arose, and Frangois half 
fearing he had offended her stood hesitating. 
Their eyes met a minute, but though they both 
tried to talk as they had done a short while before 
they ended by exchanging monosyllables and then 
they walked on in silence. 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 585 


Frangois drew Virginians hand through his arm : 

“Come just over the brow, Virginia, where we 
can look out on the wild South Country. I want 
to speak to you where we are quite alone.’’ 

A delight which neither tried to analyze gripped 
their hearts. They saw only each other though 
they climbed past the knoll and sat upon a great 
rock, velvety with clinging mosses, and down be- 
low the heads of pines and other trees blended in 
a solid mass of varied greens and russet. 

“Virginia, since that night of the first dance at 
Dade’s Inn, the time you went away to school, I 
have loved you, and that love has kept on grow- 
ing until now. Dearest, I would have told you 
long ago, but you were not free — ” 

“Oh! Jean, do not speak of that! It was a ter- 
rible mistake! Please! don’t!” She closed her 
eyes as if to shut out its vision. Frangois put his 
arms around her. 

“I know,” he said simply. “We will never speak 
of it. But, dearest, it was not only you, I was 
not free. The mystery about my father’s past — ” 

It was her turn to silence him, and love dictated 
the method. 

The moon had risen. Jean and Virginia de- 
scended the trail to the village but before they left 
the quiet, unfrequented path Jean spoke: 


586 THE MASTER OF BONNE TERRE 


‘^Virginia, in my happiness, — and selfishness — 
IVe forgotten the time-honored customs: Will 
you be my wife, the heart of my soul, the spirit of 
my mind? My sweetheart always 

A second later he was kissing her lips after re- 
ceiving her answer. 

As they proceeded Virginia playfully said: 

^This haint the same valley where we'uns used 
to gather hazel-nuts. I donT see none her-bouts. 
When I was a little gal, runnin^ up an^ down this 
trail, I never thought I’d marry the Master of 
Bonne Terre’s son.’,’ And she laughed as when she 
was a simple backwoods girl. 

“Hello there!” came up to them from the valley, 
and looking down they described Bud and Flora 
making frantic gestures for them to hurry along. 

As soon as they got within speaking distance. 
Flora cried: “Virgie! Virgie!” and ran to her 
friend. 

She put her arms around her in her impulsive 
way. Then holding her away from her she looked 
straight into her eyes. 

“Bud! I bet it is so! I bet it is so!” she cried 
excitedly. 

“What?” asked Virginia, but the tell-tale look 
of happiness that stole into her eyes as Frangois 
came up, fully convinced Flora. 


THE TURNING IN THE LANE 587 


dear, you and I always do the same thing 
at the same time. I'm engaged to Bud and I'll 
bet anything you're engaged to the Captain!" 

The couples exchanged congratulations. Bud 
spoke: 

“I suppose, Captain, it's up to us to get the 
buggies now," and he laughed. 

A few minutes later the two couples came up, 
smiling, on Silas and his wife who were returning 
to the Inn. 

The old man's native shrewdness toyed a few 
seconds with the significance of that '^promonade", 
and he caused Mrs. Dade to stop while he squared 
himself in the road and bit off a fresh chew of “ter- 
backy." 

The young people stopped to discover the cause 
of the interrupted walk. They looked question- 
ingly at the old man. 

'‘By hanky, I knowed you'ns all listen to old Si, 
bye and bye. Howamsoiver, you boys was so slow 
I thought I'd have to do the sparkin'. But's all 
well that en's well. Them Yankees is all right fer 
the mines an' such like, but shucks — ^you gals 
knows what's from what. You'ns did jist what I 
knowed you'd do." 


THE END. 


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